


Find Your Worth

by nicb0723



Category: John Wick (Movies), John Wick (Movies) RPF
Genre: F/M, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 77,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicb0723/pseuds/nicb0723
Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.
Relationships: John Wick & You, John Wick/Original Female Character(s), John Wick/You, John/Reader, Keanu Reeves - Relationship
Comments: 188
Kudos: 238





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ** Depression trigger warning and mention/thoughts of suicide  
> 

_This is a pretty lake._

You probably should take the time to come here more. There are sailboats in the distance and kids swinging at the playground on the other side of the blue water. 

_It’s pretty here._

It _was_ pretty here. It _was_ a pretty lake. You correct your own thinking, your own thoughts absentmindedly. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. You probably _should have_ taken the time to come here more. 

The picnic table you picked is far away from everyone else, like a private little island, except you can hear echoes of laughter and screams of fun as families splash in the water. The wood is hard under your ass and your feet tap on the bench as you wait, trying to be patient. The sun is hot on your back even as it slowly starts its descent in the late afternoon. The sun will be out for a few more hours. It’s two days before the Fourth of July and it’s been really hot, the days are long and nights short. 

This would be a pretty place to watch the fireworks. 

You breathe in deep, knowing that you probably won’t see any fireworks this year and that’s okay. You’ve made peace with it. 

The sound of tires on gravel startle you out of your thoughts and chills run down your spine. This is it. Your skin tightens with anxiety but you’ve come this far. You’ve made your choice.

Steady, confident footsteps follow the car door opening and closing. The rocks under their shoes crunch loudly and the pace is slower as they approach your back. You don’t really want to turn and see whoever it is, but this is the last hard part. Everything else will be easy after this. It’ll be done. 

They don’t say anything so you push your sunglasses up over your hair and rub down your face, fingers pressing hard over your temples. You’ve got a headache again. The dull pain gives you enough of a reason to turn your head and nod a hello towards the stranger. 

The sun is behind the tall man, making you squint and you have no idea what to say. Maybe he’ll say something first but you wait a few beats and you know that won’t happen. He’s just standing there, looking at you. From your quick glance, you see that he has dark hair slicked back and his body is slim. He’s wearing far too many clothes for this heat, dress slacks and a turtleneck. Maybe he works in the city? Maybe this is his second job?

“Are you him?” Your voice doesn’t sound shaky like you thought it would. You’re slightly proud of yourself for that. 

His voice, even though he spoke just one word, makes you shiver. “Yeah.”

“Okay great, um, hello.” You say awkwardly as you shift your body around to fully face him. He steps towards you slowly, coming more into view and his brown eyes are narrowed at yours. His strides are long and his arms carry a lot of strength, his hands and fingers twitch like they’re ready to pounce at any sudden movement. Maybe he’s military? No, but maybe he’s retired because he has long hair and a beard that probably wouldn’t be allowed. It really looks good on him though.

Whoever this man is, it’s not what you were expecting. 

At all. 

“Thanks for coming.” And now your voice does shake a little because this is a scary thing you’re about to do and suddenly your throat is dry. Did you really decide to do this? 

He doesn’t say anything and continues his intense gaze. His eyes finally flicker down your body, it’s nothing but a quick assessment. He nods for you to continue and you sigh deeply. It’s now or never. 

“Yeah okay, so I’m assuming you know why I called you?” You didn’t really call, you left a message with a homeless man in the city, who somehow had text you this location, time and day to meet.

He comes even closer and the sunlight shines over his face briefly until he’s in the shade. You wonder how old he is because his skin is smooth, except for the fading scab of blood on his forehead. “I understand you need a hitman.”

Oh, god. He seriously just said it outloud. Like it was nothing. 

You clear your throat and sweat breaks over your skin. “Yeah. Yes, that’s right.” 

He almost looks disappointed or concerned, you can’t really tell. 

“For who?” He asks easily. 

“Well, um. Can you tell me how much it’ll be first? I’m kinda curious.” You half heartedly chuckle at your own stupidity. What an amatuear.

“No.” He keeps his stare sharply trained on you, but something tells you that he really doesn’t want to be here, like you’re wasting his time with this. Like this is below him. “Tell me who.”

Moment of truth right here. You close your eyes, take a deep breath of air and face towards the water again. As you open your eyes you barely whisper, “Me.”

Silence. You figured as much. It’s probably not often a hitman gets hired to take out the person who hired him. 

“Excuse me?” He asks incredulously. 

You look at him again, this tall, dark, handsome stranger who might be the last person you’ll ever see again. “I said... me.”

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

His eyes drop in confusion and he shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. When he looks back at you they’re no longer calculating. You hadn't realized he was reading you until now, now that he looks at you with confusion and worry. “Why would you want that?” He finally asks and it startles a bitter laugh out of you.

“Why? I don’t think you want to know. You’d be here all night. Will you do it?”

For a second you think he’s going to say no and your mind races with what you’ll do. How the hell will you find another hitman?

“Tell me why.”

You think about avoiding the question again but he kind of scares you. So what if he knows? It couldn’t possibly hurt anything for him to hear about your depressing life, a life you so desperately want out of. “Why? Okay… well, let’s see...” You want to know his name at least and you raise your eyebrow in question. 

He realizes what you want and he says his name, like he’s surprised you somehow don’t already know it. “John.” He says slowly, and it seems like he rarely has to introduce himself. 

“Okay, John.” That’s probably not even his real name but it’ll do and you don’t really care. You rub your fingers across your temple again. The ache is starting to spread and you just want this conversation over with as soon as possible. “My grandmother just died. She was the only family I had left.” You pause and look over at John, but he’s just waiting. “She was in the hospital for almost a year. And in hospice for almost two years before that.”

Grandma was a fighter, that was for sure and you savored every single minute you could have with her. But...

“Do you have any idea how expensive hospital bills are? Funeral bills?” You don’t bother to wait for an answer, but you do see John look down, like he did know something about it. “I’ll have to pay for years, which would be fine but see I have a real shitty job. Doesn’t pay a lot at the local gas station.” You don’t add that it was the only job you could find that worked nights and let you be with grandma during visiting hours. 

“And not only is working at the gas station bad enough, I have an even shitter boss. He likes to harass me, John. You know anything about getting your ass grabbed on a daily basis?”

No. You thought not. John is looking at you intently now.

“I’d quit but I have no real skills. I barely graduated high school. I love her, but taking care of grandma was a full time job and we didn’t have money for help. I thought I could afford the hospice but…” 

You just couldn’t. You were in way over your head. No one taught an 18 year old how to take care of a dying guardian. No one taught you about credit cards and loans and interest and bankers taking advantage of you for years after you graduated. And now, over a decade later you’re still paying for every mistake. 

Sighing, you shift towards John and let your legs dangle off the table. “Anyway, my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, gets out of jail in a month.”

He looks at you expectedly. 

“Oh I put him in there too. Domestic abuse and stuff, you know, the usual.” You cross your arms over your chest in a weak attempt to protect yourself. “So, if you don’t do this I’m sure he’ll find me and I’ll be tied up in a basement somewhere.” You bat your eyelashes, trying for some guilt. “You wouldn’t want that would you, John?”

He doesn’t speak after hearing you spill problems that a normal person could probably handle, but you’re tired. Oh yes. You forgot to mention that. “And I live across the tracks there.” You point out west, towards the bad part of town. “My apartment sucks and I haven’t slept in two years. Like, real sleep, ya know?”

Obviously he doesn't because John still doesn’t say anything. “The sink drips at night and keeps me awake. Drip. Drip. Drip.” You can hear the sound of the water splashing in your bathroom sink as you talk about it. The annoying sound that you’re now obsessed with because it repeats in your head over and over and over again for hours. All. Night. Long. Driving you insane. 

“I can’t afford a repair man and the apartment manager could care less. So I don’t sleep. Well, sometimes I did while I was at the hospital with grandma, in a chair. Oh, and there's the dog across the alleyway from my living room that barks during the day too, so that’s nice.”

John is watching you squeeze at the back of your neck now, trying to ease some of the tension pulsing there. You don’t mention the chronic pain that your body is in and how your stomach hurts because of all the pain killers you take. You don’t mention that your car is crap and will probably die soon. You don’t tell him about your parents. You skip the part about being severely depressed. You don’t tell him about a lot. 

“So, will you do it?” You ask again. 

John pauses and opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You think for sure he’ll say no, but then you remember that this is his actual job and he needs money, right? He can’t really say no. You could go to the police and turn him in. You could threaten him… well, you could try to. You look him up and down again. Maybe.

“Um.” He starts off slowly. “I guess… why don’t you know, just do it yourself?”

Oh. You didn’t really think he’d care about that and you weren’t expecting to provide an explanation. “Are you a religious man, John?”

He shrugs and looks at the silver cross you wear around your neck. “Then you would know I can’t do it myself. I want to see my grandma in Heaven.”

John nods at that and shuffles his feet a little. It’s the first real movement he’s made since he got here. 

“I thought about suicide by police, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt…” You think for a few seconds before you lose a thought, wanting to say it before you forget. “Can I ask you something? I mean, if you decide to do it… like, I just don’t want to know when or how, obviously. I don’t want to know anything. I just want it to be done. I want it to be quick.” You swallow thickly, talking about your own death is really different than just thinking about it constantly. “I just don’t want anyone else hurt, like if you were to cut the wires on the breaks of my car or something? I could potentially crash and hurt someone in another car. And um… could you maybe not do it when I’m in the shower?” You smile weakly at your own request. “I mean, I don’t care if you like, come and do it in my sleep or whatever, but I have this thing while I’m showering… I’m at my most vulnerable, ya know and I just…” 

“Yeah. I get it.” He walks a few steps towards you and puts his hand on the table, close to where you’re sitting. He has really long fingers and his knuckles are a bit bruised. There's a tan line where a ring used to be. He stands close to you now and he smells faintly of coffee. His body isn’t as rigid either, now that he knows you’re not a threat and just some small pathetic girl who can’t get her shit together.

“You do?” Relief floods you. Thank God. He understands. That means he’ll do it, right? “So, you’ll do it?”

John just stares now, his eyes soft and unblinking. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask. You thought you had explained yourself well enough. What could he possibly be thinking about? It’s his job. 

Looking away, he shakes his head. “This is just… not what I expected.”

“Oh.” Okay, that makes sense. You wonder who John thought you’d want to kill. He should still want to get paid though, but you don’t think that’d be the best thing to tell him. You feel like you’ll get scolded or yelled at for some reason. You decide to let him think and keep quiet. 

His whole demeanor suddenly changes and he mutters under his breath, “Fucking Jimmy… fucking favors.” He folds his arms too, like you and leans his narrow hip on the tabe, casual now. You take offense. 

“Look, I’m serious about this. I can’t keep living like I am. I know that it could be worse, okay? I know I could be homeless or I could… it could be a lot worse. But I’m just done. I’m tired. I want out. So just… please?”

John nods silently. Finally he answers as he stands up straight, broad shoulders squared and readies himself to leave. “I’ll let you know.”

You feel the panic tighten in your lungs. “Wait. What? You can’t tell me now? That’s bullshit!”

“That’s the way this works,” he says calmly. “I get to think about it and get back to you if I take the job.”

You’ve been planning this for months. None stop thinking about this very moment. The disappointment you feel is familiar though. Nothing in your life would ever be easy. “Yeah, okay.” You sigh sadly. “Could you at least tell me how much it’ll cost if you do decide?”

John unfolds his arms and puts his hands on his hips. “Fifty thousand.”

“Fift-- what? Are you serious?! That’s insane.”

He shrugs again and doesn’t say anything. He actually does look very serious. In fact, that could be a smirk on his pretty mouth. 

You may not be smart, but you aren’t stupid either. “Fine. I’ll just get someone else to do it. This city is full of scumbags who need to make a buck.” Jumping down from the table you stand and you realize how tall John is compared to you. “Just leave. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

“No. No. Don’t do that.” The urgency that suddenly comes from him surprises you and it causes you to take a step back. “Just. Promise me. You won’t get anyone else, okay?”

You scoff in frustration. “Well what the hell else am I supposed to do? I don’t need all of this…” your hands gesture to his expensive clothes and for the first time you see the shiny classic car that’s parked a few yards away. You sigh loudly, unimpressed. Usually guys who have a car like that are complete douche bags. “Fancy.” 

“Fancy?” John gives you a disapproving look. 

“Yeah, you’re very fancy, I don’t know.” You’re pissed off and he seems to finally get it, putting his hands up like you’re a scared kitten. 

“Okay, okay, fine. Look, I’ll do it.” 

Call it a woman's intuition but you don’t believe him and it shows. “How much?”

John searches the ground, scrambling for an answer that won’t make you walk. “Three hundred.”

That’s not what you were expecting, but whatever. You just want to go and lay down before your shift starts at work. You don’t really have to go in, knowing it won’t matter in a few days, but you want to live normally in complete bliss of denial that this whole thing ever happened. When it’s your time to go, it's your time. Sort of.

“I want it to happen within a week of today. I don’t care if it’s tomorrow, tonight, or three days from now. But in seven’s day time… it’s done.” You reach your hand out for John to shake it. “Deal?”

He looks down at your hand. It’s like everything John does is precise, every move made is methodical. Your hands meet and shake twice, his fingers engulfing yours and you pull away quickly. 

“How do I pay you?” Do you leave the money on your kitchen table or something? 

John takes out car keys from his pocket. “I’ll contact you.”

“You don’t even have my phone number. You don’t even know my name.”

Now he really does smirk and you feel slightly dumb at questioning him. “I’ll be in contact,” he repeats. You have no doubt that he knows exactly where you live, your phone number, even your social security number. He probably knew all your information before meeting you today. 

“Fine.” You grab your purse from the bench and swing it over your shoulder. “Thank you, I guess.”

John steps back towards his car and stops. “Just… one thing?” 

“Yeah?”

His voice is soft, hopeful even. “Tell me if you change your mind?” 

You shake your head no. “I won--”

“Just...” He stops you before the protest starts. “When I contact you, let me know then.” With that he turns towards the parking lot. 

You can hear the roar of his car as you start to walk home. You did it. It’s done. You smile to yourself, the first in a very long time and it feels foreign on your lips. 

**

The dog is barking again as you try to rest. Your headache isn’t much better, but the thought of a cold energy drink at work makes you get up and dressed. 

It’s very rare that you look at yourself in the mirror anymore. The last time must have been months ago. Your hair is stringy and long, not having a cut in years. Dark, shallow circles engulf under your lifeless eyes. Your cheeks are sunken in but you put on a few pounds lately, sugar being the only thing to keep you up and going. It’s not a cute sight. 

The only clothes you have now either have a hole or a rip somewhere. Your shoes are worn thin and probably contribute to the constant pain in your lower back. 

You look decent enough and the thought that this might be your last night of work gives your stomach a sharp twist. John could come tonight. He could be in your apartment waiting for you when you got home. Will he have a gun? A knife? Maybe he’ll strangle… you need to stop thinking about it. 

The small apartment is sticky hot when you lock up, and you’re glad for the short walk to the gas station for some fresh air. 

Gary’s car is parked in front of the car wash and your heart falls. He really is the worst manager ever and even though you’re not really scared of him, he gives you the creeps. You don’t want to deal with his shit tonight, not after today, and you wonder how long he’ll be there since he’s only supposed to check in a few times a week. 

“Hey,” You mutter to him as you walk briskly to put your purse in the back and grab the soda you stuck in the fridge on your last shift. 

Gary’s smiling and leering at you. “How are you, sweetheart?” 

Grimacing weakly you nod and glance at his bald head. You never really look at him and avoid all possible eye contact. You ignore the question though and move to grab your apron under the counter and start to stock the shelves of assorted candy and gum. Hopefully he leaves you alone today. 

“I like that color on you.” 

You hear his comment and close your eyes for strength. The door suddenly opens, signaling a customer and you hurry to the register to help. Gary must give up and heads to the back storage room. 

The lady pays for her gas and a bottle of water but the register jams and you have to work your magic to get it open. The register is a piece of crap that’s way older than it should be and you’re surprised it still works, but you’ve mastered it and know every trick to get it functioning. You always have to teach the guy who works in the mornings and the other employees who work on the weekend how to fix it. 

Gary finally leaves after you don’t pay him much attention and keep yourself busy. It’s a fine line between being rude to the guy and keeping your job. And although you could tell him off because John could technically come for you tonight, something tells you that you’re better than that. But barely, because you really don’t want any other girl to go through what you have in this place. Maybe you’ll leave a letter to corporate that John can mail for you after he’s… done. 

You close up at midnight like usual and glad the night wasn’t eventful. Walking home is a different experience than any other night. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings, expecting a tall figure to approach you at any second. It’s slightly disappointing when nothing happens and you make it just fine. 

There’s no one in your apartment either. You kind of thought John would be waiting in the closet, waiting for you to sleep or something, but he’s not here. 

You lay in bed, restless. Should you even plan out your day tomorrow? John could slip in the middle of the night and you would never know. He said that he would be in contact, but you’re not sure how long you’ll have to wait. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess and it’s oddly quiet. So odd that you sit up a little wondering what’s going on. There’s no dog barking. You dare get excited enough to open the window, finally letting in a cool breeze that you’ve been longing for since the warmer months. You would always drown out the barking by keeping the window closed, but this feels amazing. 

You creep into your own bathroom with the lightest of footsteps. Could this actually be happening? There’s no water coming from the facet. No sound of drip. Drip. Drip.

It’s silent. For the first time since you’ve lived here it’s relatively quiet and you jump back in bed suddenly exhausted from today’s big meeting. Images of John float through your mind and you close your eyes and finally sleep. 

**

You wake with a newfound energy. How amazing it is to sleep well and get a full night rest. Your body feels lighter and mind alert. You take the time to stretch, breathing in deeply. You actually have time to do things. Usually you lounge around in bed before you have to get up for your shift, resting all you could. It feels good to pick up around the apartment, throw some things away that you don’t want anyone finding...well, after… 

There’s a pep in your step when you get to work, plus Gary’s car isn’t in the parking lot. In fact, there’s a strange woman behind the counter bustling around, shoving papers here and there. 

“Hi… are you new?” You ask. She’s a nice looking lady, with blue eyes and soft blond hair above her shoulders. 

Startled, she turns and smiles. “Hi! No, not really. Well, I’m one of the district managers. Gary suddenly quit so I’m trying to figure out where everything is and what I can do to help. I’m Carla, by the way.”

A slow grin spreads on your lips. “Gary quit? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. Still flipping through a stack of papers that you recognize are the schedules for you and your co-workers. “Said he was moving across the country, I’m not sure. Now who are you exactly? I’m sorry, I haven’t met anyone. I came in to open up this morning and I’ve been here all day.” 

You introduce yourself politely and offer that she take a break and go to get something to eat or go home. You can handle closing up, after all. 

Carla nods and grabs her purse. “You’re sweet, thank you. I remember your name from the records the company keeps on file. Your cash handling skills are great and you’ve never called out. You’ve never had any warnings. How would you like a promotion today?”

You can’t do anything but blink at her. 

She laughs warmly at your reaction. “Look, why don’t you think it over, okay? It’s actually not a bad gig. An assistant manager is what I’m looking for. You’d work under me, but you’d be in charge of all the scheduling and hiring. I’d need you to be full time but that means benefits and a raise, of course. There’s a folder on the counter about the training program. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Nodding, you go behind the counter as she leaves through the front door. You’re glad there’s no customers around right now because you just sink into the chair and stare, jacket and backpack still on. You think she must be joking and shake yourself out of it. The folder is blue and laminated with thick paper, very professional. You briefly look at the benefit section in the back. It’s typical medical, dental, vision… and mental health? Therapy and counseling included for a small fee. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll have to tell Carla no tomorrow. If you have a tomorrow. You push the folder to the side and pay attention to the flow of customers starting to come in for the after work rush. It stays busy well after the sun goes down and you realize it’s Fourth of July, so it’s busier than normal. You briefly feel sad that this is how you'll spend your last holiday.

After a quick break when it’s quiet you reach to check your phone. You have a text from an unknown number.

_Did you change your mind yet?_

You scoff and shake your head. Yet? Yeah right. You type out _No_ and send it back, putting John’s name into your phone first. You wonder if he’ll destroy it after… or hide it with your body… ugh, there was a reason you couldn’t do this yourself. It’s morose. 

You’ve already gone through every single emotion though. The turmoil, the grief, the anger, the shame, and finally the acceptance. There’s no talking you out of it now. You don’t have anything that would be worth something, so your stuff will probably be thrown out or donated. You do wonder about the debt and what will happen, but you just don’t think about it too much.

Your phone beeps again a few hours later, as you’re packing up to go home. 

_Relax. I’m not coming tonight._

A breath you’ve been holding without realizing escapes and you hadn’t known how tense you were the entire night. You think John might be trying to fool you, but you also don’t think that’s his style. 

The car ride home is oddly smooth and your car seems a lot less bumpy than usual. Maybe that means it’ll break down soon, you have no idea. 

You wonder what will happen to your car after you’re gone.

**

The next day you have nothing to do in the morning, but you need to do laundry so you head out early with your dirty clothes stuffed in a bag, swung heavily over your shoulder. You decide to treat yourself on the way to a sweet, rich coffee that tastes so good as you take a long sip. No one is around and you settle in a hard plastic chair to wait after you throw the first wash in the machine. 

He could poison me, you think to yourself, staring at your coffee. That’d be a good way to do it. Nice and easy. No witnesses he’d have to deal with. No investigation. That’s what you’re paying him for, right? No messes to clean up.

The door to the laundromat swings open and here comes John himself, almost walking in slow motion in his dark suit, and you feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. This is how he decides to do it? Now? At the laundry place? Where you’re wearing old clothes and wrinkled underwear? Perfect.

“Hi.” He stands over you, tall and brooding. You notice that he has a faint trace of a black eye and a small cut on his lip. 

“This is happening?” You ask, still not really believing your shitty luck. This beautiful man seeing you in such a state of upheaval is embarrassing. 

“No. Not right now. I wanted to see if you changed your mind.” John’s voice is stern, determined. His hair is slicked back, making him look intimidating, much more now that you’re both under fluorescent lights rather than the soft sun rays at the park. 

Your eyes track down his body, taking in those shoulders and slim waist, long legs in a perfectly fitted suit. “Do you always dress up? Like every day?”

“What?”

You gesture to his clothes. “What’s with all the suits? I mean, you look very nice but this is the cheapest laundromat in the entire city.”

For the first time John really looks around. His eyes had darted past you to the backdoor as he walked in, but otherwise his gaze was completely on you. “I um… I have another job after this.”

“Oh. I didn’t know hitmen were in such demand.”

John clears his throat. “Assassin.”

“What?”

“I’m an assassin.” He says it slowly, making sure you understand. “Not a hitman.”

An assassin? That makes sense, you knew he was too fancy to be a hitman. “What’s the difference?” 

Still speaking slowly he says, “A hitman usually gets one target. I get them all.”

“Do you like… shoot guys from a rooftop or something?”

“No, that’s a sniper.”

“Of course. I apologize.” What a completely ridiculous conversation you’re having right now. 

He cocks his head at your words and raises an eyebrow.

You take a sip of your coffee. “What?

“You aren’t scared?”

“Of what?” You smile, almost teasingly. “You? No. I kinda knew you were in the business when I hired you, remember?”

“Oh, so I’m your employee?” 

You swear he’s almost teasing back and it surprises you because up until now he’s been so serious. You shrug your shoulders though, looking him up and down again. “I mean, I guess. You must be really desperate for that three hundred bucks.” It comes out sarcastic but you can’t help it. 

John presses his lips together, disapproving again and sighs. “Why don’t you call this off, huh?”

Sure, work has gotten immensely better and you can actually sleep through the night. Two huge changes all in just two days, but you still have a mountain ahead of you. “I have thousands of dollars in debt, John. I have an ex boyfriend who is literally going to hunt me down in a month. Changing my mind is not an option.”

He unbuttons his suit jacket and puts his hands on his hips, starting to pace.

You sip your coffee again. “I appreciate you asking, but I don’t see a way out so… a deal is still a deal, right?”

You watch as he doesn’t answer and thinks. He really is a good looking assassin. You feel bad that he has to see you in this state of disarray. Beautiful women are probably all over him.

John stops suddenly. “What's the ex boyfriend's name?”

“Huh?”

“His name? Tell me what it is.”

You usually wouldn't in a million years, but you totally lied before because John actually does scare you. “It’s Max. Max Brickson.”

John looks up at the ceiling, like he’s cataloging all the names in his head for something familiar but it doesn’t seem like he knows it. “I’ll take him out instead.”

“Huh?” You haven’t talked to many people lately, wanting to keep to yourself, but usually you can at least articulate actual words. 

“I’ll take your money,” John is talking fast now and sits down in the plastic chair next to yours. “And I’ll kill him. Instead of… well, instead of you. Problem solved.”

“Um, problem not solved.” Your voice is squeaky. “What if he hurts you? No way.”

There’s that pensive, disapproving look again. With a flick of his wrist you suddenly see a very sharp knife in his hand. Without even looking he throws it smack in the center of the poison sign on the wall all the way in the back.

“Okay, stupid point.” You swallow thickly because that was awesome and frightening all at once. “But I can’t have someone killed. Are you insane? There’s a difference between doing it to myself and someone else.”

John is rattled with confusion. “But he hurt you? Abused you, probably.”

“So what? No, absolutely not.” You shake your head and cross your legs, giving John your own _don’t mess with me right now_ look. 

“Well what if I scare him off? When he gets out? I could come to your place for a few nights, see if he comes around and if he does…”

You narrow your eyes.

“I’ll just beat him up, I swear. That’s all I’ll do.” 

He’s lying. You both know it. 

“Yeah right.” The plastic chair creaks as you get up to put your laundry in the dryer. “Besides, that still leaves the bills, John. My back hurts, my feet hurt, I’m lonely, I have no one. I don’t have anything to live for. So just forget about it. The deal stays as is. I don’t know why you care anyway.”

The air is weighted with thick tension and he’s up, walking to get his knife that’s still sticking in the wall. He doesn’t say anything as he passes you and slams the door shut after him. 

As far as visits to the laundromat go, this was by far the most exciting. 

**

It’s been five days and you’re still alive. Yes, you’re less tired and yes, work has been better but still. You groan at the pile of mail on your table and decide to open the envelopes you’ve just added from emptying your mailbox, probably for the last time. 

The first papers you open have red ink all over, littered with the words _over due_ and _late_. You decide to leave them in a nice pile for whoever will find them, somewhat organized. The next envelope is thinner though and you have to look at it twice. _Zero balance. Paid in full._

Great. Some sort of mistake. Something else to deal with. Although, you don’t really have to do anything about it. You toss it on top and clean the kitchen a little, read through one of the free magazines you got from work, but curiosity eventually gets to you. 

After twenty minutes of answering questions about your account, the nice lady from the collection agency tells you that your balance is in fact, zero. Not only that, but the other account you have in your name is also at zero. They were both paid two days ago but she can’t tell you what happened. 

You have to get to work anyway and you’re still thinking about it when Carla asks you what’s wrong. Telling her briefly about the situation you confide that you’re baffled, but she shrugs it off. 

“Your grandma probably had life insurance. Mine did, and my father didn’t find out about it until after she passed. She probably knew how expensive all of this would be for you.” Patting you on the shoulder, Carla’s eyes are full of sympathy as she goes behind the counter to help someone. 

You knew all of grandma’s finances though. At least, you thought you did. Maybe she was keeping secrets.

The front door swings open and Sam greets you, “Hey buddy.” He’s a new kid Carla hired a few days ago to help on your off days and he's here for training. He’s still in high school and seems really sweet. 

Carla is texting away on her phone and tells Sam to put his stuff in the back and grab a water before getting started. Then she touches your elbow and whispers, “Do you think you could train Sam today? I know you told me no about the assistant manager position, but my daughter is having a meltdown about a boy right now. I’ll make sure to give you a bonus and buy you one of those coffees you like!” 

You smile and nod. At least the day will go by faster. “Just the coffee will be fine,” you tell her and she shoots you a grateful look. She tells Sam what’s going on and flies out the front door, both of you giggling at the sight of her dress blowing in the wind. 

The night goes really smooth and Sam is goofy, making you laugh more than you can remember. You learned shortly after Carla and you had a conversation a few days ago that Gary had been keeping you on nights alone, saving the salary of the extra person who would have been with you for at least a few hours before closing. He had been doing a lot of things wrong, like not letting you take lunches or refusing to pay you overtime. Carla was shocked when she looked at the logs and it had all stopped immediately. 

You feel pretty proud at the way Sam gushes over how you know all the tricks to the register, especially when he locks it up a few times and you know how to troubleshoot it easily. You hope he remembers all these tricks because even the girls from the day shift have to call you sometimes for help.

Before you know it, Sam is leaving and you’re heading out. The ride home is short and your apartment quiet. 

You sit at your kitchen table, eyeing the zero balance written in black ink you left on top of the pile of envelopes.

Not red. 

Well, fuck.

Your life is kinda good right now. It doesn’t actually royally suck. Yeah, you still have to worry about Max, but you could always take John up on his offer. If you don’t have to use your entire paycheck to pay the credit bills, and you took the promotion, that’d leave you enough to start saving… and maybe buy some new shoes. Maybe you could go to counseling. Get your head back on straight. Maybe go back to school.

Your fingers are cold when you reach for your cell phone. You think that you might change your mind in the morning, but knowing a good sleep is in the cards for you tonight, you decide to just make the call now. 

“This is Wick.”

“John?”

“Oh hey… how are you?”

His full name is John Wick and the thought barely processes before you continue to talk. “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?”

Of course he wasn’t going to let you off that easy. “Fine. I did change my mind. Don’t do it.”

You can hear him smiling through the phone. “This is the first job I’ve ever been fired from.”

“Ah, John. I’m sure you would have done an excellent job. Thanks for not… well, you know. Not doing anything to me yesterday. Or even this morning.” You tell him, tapping the zero on the folded bill with your fingernail. “I appreciate everything, in a really weird way.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He says softly.

“You gave me time. Things suddenly seem to be working out so… yeah.”

John’s voice is kind and you vividly remember him throwing the knife with such force in the laundromat. You’re sad that you’ll never see him again. You wonder if he wasn’t an assassin and if you weren’t such a wreck maybe you could ever be friends. “I’m really happy for you.”

You don’t say anything as you hang up on him. You can tell he’s not one for goodbyes anyway. 

**

It takes a few weeks, but therapy is a good look on you. Things that were very black and white in your world suddenly had color. Smiling more and crying less, laughing instead of eating your feelings away. The new job is just challenging enough that you excel at it, but still have time for maybe taking some classes when school starts. 

You did buy new clothes, new shoes, and a new mattress. You don’t have enough for a new car yet, but surprisingly it’s running just fine. Turns out your apartment manager only speaks Russian, and simply didn’t understand when you tell him things are broken. Now you have new light bulbs, and new shower head, and new carpet. 

Your savings account is slowly growing too. You’ve gone out to lunch a few times with Carla and even helped Sam with his homework once or twice. Your confidence is building and you feel the strength in your mind and body. It’s amazing what can happen when you sleep and pain isn’t throbbing in your back, and the headaches seem to have gone away too. 

In fact, you’ve taken up running and currently you’re at a good pace around the lake early this morning. The music is blasting in your ears and the sweat at your brow feels good. You feel alive.

And that’s when you spot him. You’d know that stride anywhere, John being on your mind as a handsome acquaintance instead of an assassin you hired… and then fired.

“Hey! I can’t believe you’re here!” You pull out your earbuds and catch your breath as you take in John’s appearance. He looks different in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He has the cutest bulldog on a leash who is patiently waiting by his side. 

“Hi!” He looks almost as surprised as you are. Almost. He smiles widely and puts his hands shyly in his pockets.

“What’re you doing here? You live close by?” You ask, still sucking in air. You’re so out of shape, but you learned in therapy that even ten minutes of movement is a milestone. 

“Uh, yeah. I live in Mill Neck.” He points across the lake, towards the nice side of town. You live on the opposite side of the lake.

“Ah, of course. That’s cool.” 

“You look nice. You look happy.” John says, still smiling softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Blushing you glance down at the dog and ignore his words. “Who’s this big guy, huh? Can I pet him?”

“Yes, of course.” John replies. “I only got him a few weeks ago actually, still figuring out a name.”

“He looks like a pooch, don’t ya?” You forget John is even there as you crouch down and talk to the dog, who has a beautiful silver blue coat of fur and you laugh as he licks at your chin. 

“I think he likes you.” John bends down too and gently pulls the dog away. “Pooch, huh?”

“Well anything’s better than _hey dog_.” You shrug and stand back up. “He’s really cute.” 

“Yeah, I think we get along just fine.” John agrees. 

You start to put your earbuds back in and give him a little wave, suddenly feeling awkward. You don’t want to intrude on his walk. 

“I’ll be seeing you, maybe?”

John chuckles and bites at his lip. “Not if I see you first.”

What the hell does that mean? A huge flock of ducks fly down into the lake and you hear the leash pull as John lets out a low sound of a commanding heel, which makes you tingle.

However, it doesn’t faze the dog because he barks. Loudly. And you stop cold. You know the sound of that bark. It’s tattooed in your brain. You turn around slowly and now you shiver all over, but not because of attraction. You slowly stalk back towards John and you can hear him mutter to himself. It sounds like _shit_. It sounds like he just got caught. 

“You stole the fucking dog across from my apartment.” Your voice is low and accusing, a statement because you already know the answer. You lean in close to John, your jaw ticking in anger. “You kidnapped a dog!”

“Shh. Look, come over here.” He leads you to a nearby bench and sits you down. 

You feel a panic attack coming and you try to think of what you learned in therapy. The lightheadedness gets to you fast though and John pushes your head between your legs. You’d be embarrassed but you’re too upset. “Oh my God. You did everything, didn’t you? You… you…. Oh my God. I’m so fucking stupid.”

John sits down and tries not to crowd you, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. The dog seems unfazed and curls up at his feet. “He was starving,” John explains, his fingers lightly brushing your elbow. “That’s why he was always barking. He was chained up with no food, only rainwater to drink. No shelter. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

You look at the dog and even now through a panicked haze, you can see that his ribs are sticking out slightly. He’s happily panting and staring down the ducks, completely oblivious of your anxiety.

“Tell me what else. Oh my God, you made them give me a promotion? I couldn’t even do that by myself.”

John pauses and shakes his head. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh my God… did you kill Gary?”

“.... no”

“Oh my GOD.”

“I just threatened him.” John’s voice is loud now and he looks around guiltily. You glare at him to start talking and he’s almost whispering. “Really. I didn’t kill him. I went over to his house in the middle of the night when no one else was home and---”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Look, he needed to go. He really was a scumbag. Not kill worthly, but still. The town is better off without him here.”

You look at John in disgust. He’s telling you all of this so calmly. Another thought pops in your mind that makes you sick. “You paid off my debt, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, just sits back on the bench and gazes out to the water. 

“Tell me.” Your stomach turns, but you need to know. 

He nods once, not looking at you. Avoiding your eyes entirely. 

“You asshole.” You mutter, your hands forming into a fist. “You complete asshole.” 

He catches you before you can punch his shoulder and forces your arm down with ease. You know he’s holding back his full strength, but you can see his muscles bulge a little under his tight t-shirt. It’s very distracting. 

“I thought I was helping. I would have tried to help anyone in your situation. I’m sorry, I should have told you. I didn’t know how.”

Slumping, you sit back too. Well this is a good mindfuck. Your brain starts to function again and the cold sweat from the panic attack is fading. You stare at your new running shoes that are so comfortable. The new purple wristband that shows how far you’ve gone and what your heart rate is at. You even got your haircut at the expensive new salon in the city. It’s so shiny and healthy now.

“I can pay you back.” You whisper, not knowing how long it’ll take. You can’t really return anything you bought, but maybe you can pick up some shifts at work. Get a second job instead of going to school. 

John laughs, but nothing is funny and it comes out humorless. “This is not how I wanted you to find out. I had no intention of you paying me back. That was not the deal.”

“Fuck the deal. The deal has changed and I didn’t even know it.” You tell him, still staring at your feet. “Are you really even an assassin? How is this possible?”

“Oh, I’m an assassin,” John says, like he’s been doing it for years. “That homeless guy you gave your number to? He’s an informant for the police. I did my undercover cop friend a favor, he twisted his ankle the morning we met and needed someone to take his place.”

“Uh huh…” You’re starting to feel really dumb now.

“I was never going to kill you.” John continues. “Or anyone, I was just there to get information. Usually when a woman wants a hitman they want parents or husbands dead for the insurance or inheritance money. And you were obviously not a threat, so I told my friend you didn’t show.” 

“Obviously.” 

John rubs his hands up and down his legs and you’ve never seen him nervous. “I just take care of really bad people, in case you were wondering…”

You weren’t. You were only thinking of yourself. Flooding feelings of shame come crashing down. How could you be so selfish?

“Bad people?”

John mumbles “yes,” and you start thinking about the money again. “I need to pay you back.”

He shifts on the bench and gently guides your chin to look at him. His touch makes you dizzy all over. “Can I tell you something and you really hear it right now? Like, really listen to what I’m going to say to you.”

You nod and meet his eyes, and it doesn’t look like he believes you, but he starts anyway. “I have plenty of money.” His tone is very soft and he’s speaking slowly, like you’re a child. “I don’t need your money.”

“You don’t need my money?” You ask, still not completely with it. 

“I don’t need your money.” He confirms. “You’re not going to pay me. If you do, I’ll find a way to get it back to you.”

“Oh my God.” You sit up with a gasp. How could you be so oblivious? “Did you fix my bathroom sink??”

John looks guilty again, hands now falling in his lap. “You needed to sleep. And you need a new lock on your door, it was too easy to break in.”

“And you fixed my car.” You say in a daze, not really listening to him anymore. 

“Well, it was easy to steal while you were at work and my friend is a mechanic. All it needed was some new tires and a tune up.”

Your eyes are wide and you blink to keep from screaming at him. “Anything else?”

“No. No, that’s it.”

As if it wasn’t enough. 

**

You don’t remember leaving the lake. You barely remember John calling out your name, his fingers grabbing at yours to stay with him. 

You do remember getting home and calling your therapist for an emergency session. It took three hours to explain it all. She tried to hide it, but she looked pretty horrified at your plan to hire a hitman. You’ve only seen her a handful of times anyway, and you hadn’t even breached the surface of your problems, let alone get to the part about John. She manages to calm you down, and gives you some coping skills to get through the rest of the day. She also asks if you still plan on hurting yourself, but you can confidently tell her no. You promise when you go home you’ll do some deep breathing exercises that you admit actually do work. 

You think any sane person would thank John for doing all he did, but you’re too proud and it pisses you off. No one gets help like that. Everyone should fend for themselves. Fight their own fight. And you had, and you thought you’d figured it out. You didn’t need someone to save you. You were going to escape, however it had to be done. 

At the end of another therapy session a few days later, you come to terms with it. You realize John is an adult and acted on his own will. You couldn’t have controlled him or his actions. For some reason he decided to help you and somehow you need to know that maybe you’re worth it. That’s later down the road though, you’re still not ready to see that yet. 

You decide on a whim one night to text John that you forgive him and thank him for the things he did.

He sends you back a smiley face emoji and you melt a little more. 

**

It’s only been three weeks since the day at the lake when your phone rings with a private number. It’s the officer who arrested Max and helped get him behind bars. He’s being let out tomorrow and Officer Sanders wanted to let you know as a courtesy. You thank him, your throat dry and he tells you to call him immediately if you need help. 

You think about John’s offer at the laundromat, but can you really ask him to do something else for you? It’s a little desperate and you’ve become so independent in this last month that the thought really doesn’t sit well. Instead, you berate yourself for not taking self defense classes and briefly consider buying a gun when your phone rings again.

“Your ex is getting paroled tomorrow.” John tells you, before you can even say hello. “I’ll be at your place for a few days. No argument.” Gone is the guilt ridden guy at the park, the assassin is back and you don’t have the guts to tell him no.

“The couch is really uncomfortable.” You try instead and you can almost hear an eye roll. 

“Be safe.” And John hangs up.

You lay down on your bedroom floor and reach under your bed for the baseball bat you hid there a long time ago. You could totally take care of yourself and practise a few swings, going a little too hard and somehow you end up with a good size bruise on the top of your foot. 

Sighing, you sit down on your bed and come to accept that John Wick, the assassin, is just going to stay with you for a couple days. Not an issue at all. No problem. All very normal. 

You tell yourself this over and over, but in the back of your mind you know it’s all lies and denial. 

TBC

<https://nicb0723.tumblr.com/>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet John in an unconventional way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Depression trigger warning

**

Before work you go grocery shopping and run some errands. You clean up a lot and wonder how the hell John’s personality will fit in your tiny apartment. He doesn’t say much but he can be so intense. You can’t imagine the two of you together, alone, in this tiny space. 

In the bathroom you hesitate as you pick up your prescription. The doctor thought it would take the edge off your anxiety, and make the depression manageable. She also made sure you were seeing someone for therapy. For now, the pill once a day does work. You can breathe. You can function. You’d be a fool to think all of your problems would disappear overnight. You still have a long road of recovery ahead, but this makes it less overwhelming. You place the little plastic container in the medicine cabinet, somewhere John won’t see it. You wouldn’t put it past him if he snooped, but in a way you're proud that you were able to talk about your problems and get some help. 

At work Sam is with you and currently making fun of your limp after you tell him why there’s a bruise on your foot. He’s asking if you want him to go buy you a cane when John waltzes in, hair slicked back and suit jacket blowing from the wind. How someone can look like a model in a gas station you’ll never know. He stares until you go to him and ask what the hell he’s doing here.

“Getting gas.” He answers and reaches for his wallet.

You don’t say anything and ring him up, glancing outside to his car parked in spot one. 

Sam is watching you two interact and he has the biggest grin on his face. _Is that your boyfriend?_ He mouths behind John’s back and you cough in shock. No, and yeah right, like you could ever get a guy like John in a million years. 

“Hello!” Sam says loudly and teasingly bumps your hip with his behind the counter. 

John raises an eyebrow and glances to you first, then nods to Sam. “Hi.”

“John, this is Sam my co-worker and Sam, this is John my um… friend?”

True surprise flickers in John’s brown eyes and he looks pleased, a slow small smile spreads on his lips. 

“She’s actually my boss, but nice to meet you.” Sam says and his attention is drawn to the classic car outside and the gushing begins. 

You let the two of them talk until you hear John offer to show him the engine and they both move to go outside. “Hey, I’ll see you later?” 

Sam smirks and you nod at John, wondering how he knows where you live. It’s a little weird that he broke into your place just to fix a leaking faucet and he was in your apartment without you even knowing. In the back of your mind, you think that it’s actually pretty thoughtful. You mindlessly wonder why he would waste his time though. Why he would do any of the things that he did. He said that he would help anyone in the same situation as you, but you’ve been thinking about that question since the day at the lake, and you’re too scared to ask him. You’re scared to see the look on his face, the look of pity because that’s all you can think that he’ll say. 

You hear John’s car peel away and Sam comes back inside, still grinning like an idiot. 

“What?” You ask, not really wanting to know.

“Nothing.” Sam hops up on the counter and he knows he’s not supposed to sit there. “I think he likes you.”

“And what makes you say that.” You deadpan, pushing at his butt with the tip of your pen.

Sam slides down and knocks over a display of gum. “He told me to look out for you.”

“Oh yeah? I can see you’d be very threatening.” You point to the packs of gum all over the floor. 

He bends down and starts to pick up the mess. “What’d you need looking out for anyway?”

“Nothing, he's just being protective I guess.”

Sam looks at you with concern. “From what?”

“Nothing. I promise, okay?”

For the rest of the night Sam shows you his karate moves and chops up air until closing time. 

**

John is folded up in the corner of your couch with his legs crossed at the knees and his black leather shoe tapping your coffee table. He’s reading one of the old magazines you have laying around. 

“How was work?” He asks, folding the magazine shut, like this is the most normal thing in the world. 

You check the locks on your door to see if they’re broken, but they’re not. You turn the handle again to make sure the door is shut all the way. 

“I should probably give you a key if you’re going to let yourself in.” 

John shrugs. “If you want.” 

Tossing your purse on the kitchen table you make your way to the living room and sit on the chair across from the couch. John looks so out of place, but you can tell he’s trying to blend in, make himself belong in your little apartment. 

“Who’s taking care of your dog while you’re here?” You ask, kicking your feet up. 

“Pooch? The little girl next door. She loves him.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually named him Pooch. I don’t even think that’s an actual word, I think my grandma made it up.”

John shrugs again you can tell he’s definitely not a man to waste any words. “It stuck. It’s... cute.”

“Cute? I can’t see you thinking anything is cute.” You grin and stand up to take your jacket and shoes off to get more comfortable. You can hear him mutter something under his breath, but can’t catch it. “So do we know if Max is officially out yet?” 

“No, I’m waiting for the call though. I’ll know as soon as it happens.”

You don’t have any doubt. “Do you want something to eat or drink?” You open the refrigerator for some juice. ”I usually have a snack when I get home. Feel free to take anything you want.” 

John tries to settle back on the couch but he seems stiff. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You can take off your tie and your jacket at least. You’ll probably be here for awhile.” You call out to him, your head sticking in the cupboard looking for the popcorn you put in there earlier. 

John doesn’t move and you gesture for him to get up as you crawl back in your chair with a bag of food. 

“You sure about that?”

“Yes of course I’m sure. Why would I not be sure?” You look at him like he’s crazy as he slowly stands and oh… that’s why.

The suit jacket comes off and he carefully lays it over the side table. His slender waist is circled with a large utility belt with three guns, two clips, and probably a knife. The sight makes your eyes widen. He stares at you as he slowly unfastens the buckle and gently places it on top of his jacket. 

“Don’t go near that.” He points sternly and sits back down, this time more comfortable. He takes his cell phone out of his pocket and sets it on the couch next to him. 

“Definitely not. Are you planning on using any of that?”

“Scare tactic.” 

Silence fills the room as you crunch on your popcorn and you’re actually feeling pretty tired. You’d like to go to bed, but you’re not sure what John’s plans are exactly. 

“So how is this going to happen?” You ask. “Are you going to come to work with me too? Are you going to run my errands with me? I mean, I’d love the company but I don’t see you wandering around Target for an hour.”

“I don’t mind going to Target with you.” His voice is so serious you can’t help but smile. “I don’t think he’ll come around during the day though. He wants you alone. Scared. Vulnerable. And I have my cop friend keeping an eye on you at work. It’s on his beat anyway.”

“Okay.” That all sounds reasonable. Dread and doubt suddenly take hold of you. “Look, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he won’t bother with me and we can just forget about it? Maybe there’s nothing to worry about at all.”

John shakes his head. “I read his record. It’s not good.”

Well, crap. You don’t want to talk about Max anymore and you don’t want to ask the one question that’s been hounding your mind. You’re still too scared to know the reason John is here, so you ask something else. “Are you ever going to sleep? You can’t stay up all night waiting.”

“I’ll sleep until I know he’s out.” John says easily. “Then after that I have motion detection alerts on my phone from the camera outside your floor.”

You blink at him. “There are cameras on the door of the elevator?”

“There are now.”

“How’d that happen?” You’ve never noticed any security cameras anywhere. 

“I talked to Francis, the apartment manager. He’s a nice guy.”

You blink at him again. “I know, but he only speaks Russian. How’d you talk to him?”

John smirks and says, “Bez truda.” 

It’s all a little too much and you get up, shaking your head in disbelief. “How is this my life right now? How do I get myself into these things? I have an assassin in my apartment… I’m going to take a shower!” You announce after a minor anxiety attack. “Feel free to turn on the TV, get comfortable, whatever you want.”

The water feels good as you scrub away the day. It relaxes you until swarming thoughts of John sitting on your couch make you hurry out of the tub and wrap yourself in the flannel bathrobe you always wear. Before you lose your nerve you walk back into the living room and find John where you left him, now looking at his phone. 

“They’re just starting to process paperwork. That means it’ll be a few hours.” John’s talking, but doesn’t look up. You start to brush your wet hair out and twist it loosely on top of your head for the night. Usually you’d smear face cream all over but that obviously is not going to happen. 

“Look, John. I know we hardly know each other, but you can sleep in the bed, okay?” You start to turn off the kitchen lights and check the front door one more time to make sure it’s locked. “It’s plenty big enough and I would just feel better.”

He’s looking at you with warm eyes now, his mouth open but nothing is coming out. It’s like his brain turned a switch and decided something important. Whatever he’s thinking must be big because his whole demeanor changes. You can’t quite figure it out, but he seems content to be here with you, where just a few moments ago he had a guard up and was struggling with something on his mind. Somehow and unknowingly, you sense that you’ve just started to break down his wall. You have no idea what you did, you’re just being yourself, but for the first time John is vulnerable. He’s blinking slowly, as if he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light, or finally giving himself permission to really see you.

It doesn’t matter though, because you know you look like a complete dork in your bathrobe and suddenly you feel incredibly stupid. Shame floods your stomach and you almost feel sick. Of course, this man wouldn’t want to be in the same bed as you. He’d probably rather die. You can’t believe you even suggested it. Also, your therapist would be terribly disappointed in you for talking down to yourself like this. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

He stands up and grabs a small leather bag you hadn’t seen by the widow. “Yes. If it’ll make you feel safer.” 

No. No. That’s not how you wanted it to happen. You wanted John to _want_ to sleep in the bed, not because you asked him. “Listen, I didn’t mean… I’ll take the couch, okay? You probably don’t want to share the bed with me, I totally understand. And you’re doing me a favor and I just want you to be comfortable.”

Utter confusion crosses his handsome face. He scratches at his beard with long fingers, trying to make sense of what you want. “What good would that do? With you sleeping on the couch?”

You stammer and can feel a flush develop on your cheeks. “I just thought… I don’t know.”

“If you rather, I can book you a room in a hotel for a few nights. I won’t… do anything to you. I can promise you that.”

Oh _God_. This conversation could not get any worse. You’re horrified that he thinks something like that and you try terribly to explain. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to go to a hotel. I just meant that um, you probably don’t want to share a bed with someone like me.” 

“Someone like you?”

The flush is creeping up to your neck as you become more embarrassed. You point at your bathrobe and general dorkiness. “Yeah, like someone… not… exactly… uh… cute?”

He seems to realize what you’re trying to say and laughs a little. “Well it’s a good thing there’s no one _not_ cute in this apartment. I don’t know how I could ever sleep.” He walks towards you and gently tucks the hair that had fallen in your eyes behind your ears. It’s very intimate and you feel yourself start to smile. “Can we go to bed now?” He moves his arm out for you to lead the way and you feel silly. John is a nice guy. Even if he really didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, he probably still would because it’s what you wanted. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You mumble and walk into the bedroom with him following. There’s not much clutter and it’s pretty bare besides the newly bought self help books on the nightstand and regular girly stuff littered on the dresser. John throws his bag on the floor and you grab some pajamas for yourself, heading to the bathroom to change. 

When you come back John is wearing a white t-shirt and soft blue sleep pants. He’s incredibly adorable and you can’t believe your luck of having him in your room right now. He must’ve grabbed his phone and weapons because they’re both on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

He looks you up and down in your tank top and shorts as you plop on the mattress, quickly getting under the covers. 

“This okay?” He asks and points to his own clothes. Was he expecting for you to want him to sleep in his suit?

“Yeah of course. But... can you fight in pajamas?” You wrinkle your nose and tease him. “That’s not very assassin-y.”

He barks out a laugh and lays down, but he doesn’t get under the sheets. His feet are bare and long, and you keep peeking at his toes. “I think it’ll be fine.”

You roll over and face him. He’s looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. 

“I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

He doesn’t move. “Why?”

Your eyes start to become heavy and you watch his chest move up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. “People don’t usually do nice things for me. I’m used to being on my own.”

With that he shifts on his side, towards you. His hair falls in his eyes and you long to brush it away. “I can tell.”

“I don’t like asking for help.”

“You never asked me for anything.” John points out. There’s plenty of space between the both of you and flop your arm towards his side, pointing at him teasingly.

“Oh, I distinctly remember asking you to do one very specific thing and you failed.”  
  


He squirms from the quick stabs of your pointer finger at his ribs. “I don’t know, I think things turned out pretty perfect.”

You scoff and roll to your stomach now, sliding your arms under the pillow. “Perfect? Yeah right, I’m sure this is the last place you want to be.”

“It is perfect. This bed is very comfortable.” John finally gets under the blankets and you giggle sleepily. His cologne is stirred by his movement and you savor the spicy smell. 

“It’s new. I got a raise at work. I’m an assistant manager now.” You tell him proudly, even though you know it’s not that big of an accomplishment.

“Oh excuse me, Miss Assistant Manager.” John smiles and acts extremely impressed. “Congratulations, by the way. I should take you out to celebrate.”

You have no idea if he’s serious or not so you just laugh and snuggle down more into the bed. After a minute you ask, “Do you think Max will come tonight?”

John pauses, thinking. “Hard to say. He doesn’t have a good past. He has friends in high places who will probably help him. How’d you meet a guy like that anyway?”

“How is that you know my name, where I live, my phone number, where I work, what car I drive… literally everything about me and you don’t know that?”

John brushes the hair from his eyes and you can see the tan line around his ring finger has started to finally fade. “That’s just part of the job.”

“Fixing leaking water faucets is part of being an assassin?” You ask, teasing again.

A sweet pink flush spreads on John’s cheeks. “Shush.” 

“That’s what I thought.”

He pretends to glare. “Maybe it is. You don’t know.” 

“You’re right, I don’t know.” You yawn and let your eyes fall close. “Can I tell you tomorrow though? I’m gonna pass out.”

You hear the click of the side lamp turn off and you want to stay awake, to soak in this moment a little more but sleep is overpowering and you drift off into a peaceful rest. 

**

Until about two o’clock in the morning, and then you start to toss and turn. You swear there’s a noise out in the living room but you also know you’re probably being paranoid. You can see the shape of John’s body just a few inches away and you want to reach over to him. 

“Hey.” He whispers and his voice startles you still. “Are you okay?”

“No.” You sit up a little and look towards your bedroom door. There’s a stream of light from the street lamps coming in through the window, but other than that it’s dark. “I thought I heard something.”

“It was just the air kicking on. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You feel John’s palm rest on your arm and squeeze. “Positive.”

“Is he out? Did you get a text or anything?”

“Hey, don’t worry about anything, okay? I promise you’re safe.”

You fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

You're wide awake and this whole situation is baffling. John Wick is in your bed, squeezing your arm and comforting you. 

“Isn’t being an assassin illegal?” You blurt out, the darkness giving you courage, and you instantly regret asking the question because he pulls away.

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” He says quietly. “Trust me, I tried to retire and I got sucked back in somehow. People seem to want only me for really hard jobs.”

“Couldn’t you get arrested or something if you got caught? Could I get in trouble with you being here?” 

“No. Sometimes cops need bad guys to go away too. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I just don’t always get myself into the best situations. I feel really safe with you, I just…” You don’t meet an assassin everyday. You have no idea what it really means. 

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

He laughs softly and his fingers brush the back of your arm now. “Nothing you ever ask will offend me. It’s actually quite refreshing. I just hope…”

You wait for him to finish, but he seems to be gathering his thoughts and you don’t want to rush him. 

“I hope you can think of me as a friend before an assassin. And I hope that I don’t scare you.”

“I don’t scare easily.” You mumble and yawn, glancing back to your bedroom door. You ignore the friend comment because you feel like you’ve already been through hell and back. You don’t know if you could consider John as a friend and then lose him someday. It might break you all over again. But then you think of how far you’ve come. “I could probably take Max. I could get him to leave me alone now that I have my mind straight.”

“You think so?” John is sincere and you can hear he’s happy at your mental growth. 

“Yeah maybe. As long as he’s clean and not hopped up on something. Then it might be harder.”

“I guess we’ll see.” John checks his phone and puts it down again after looking briefly at it. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”

“Yes. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizing.” He shifts to his side, with his back to you. 

It’s a strong, solid back with his shoulder blades poking out from underneath his t-shirt. You stare until your eyes feel heavy again. You feel _safe_.

**

The next time you wake up the sun is blaring from the window and John is gone. His leather bag is still by the bed though, but his suit jacket and all of his guns are gone too. 

You start to go about your business, not believing John would leave you alone if you were in any kind of danger. It’s almost creepy how your phone alerts a few seconds later with a text, like he knows that you’re up. 

_No need to worry. I know where he is. I’ll see you later tonight. Let me know if anything happens._

You text back _sounds good_ and John tells you to _have a nice day_.

It just so happens that you have the next two days off from work and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your foot still hurts from the baseball bat incident so you zone out in front of the TV for a while, trying to forget all of your problems. That doesn’t really work so the next best thing is to venture through the kitchen. You have snacks but not much else. Maybe it would be nice if you could fix John a nice dinner or something, for hanging out with you and like, protecting you from a shitty ex boyfriend. 

Some nice meat might do the trick. A nice steak with a potato and veggies. One thing grandma did that was awesome? Was to teach you how to cook. _Wanting_ to actually cook was a different story for the last few years, the thought making you ill when you were practically a walking zombie, but now the thought excites you. It’s also different to cook for someone than just yourself because it’s usually not worth all the hassle.

Quickly, you get dressed and head out to the nearby grocery store. It's quiet and you take your time walking down the aisles with your cart, wondering what sorts of things John likes to eat. He probably stays healthy but a part of you thinks that he might have a sweet tooth. You grab everything you need, including some pie for dessert and head back home to get started.

There’s a ton of food so you text John to _come over hungry_ and _don’t eat any dinner_. 

He doesn’t reply back immediately and your stomach starts to sink. What if this is too much? Is this weird? It’s just dinner, right? Friends have dinner together. John has to eat sometime. 

He eventually texts back a simple _okay_ and you take it for what it is. There’s nothing you can do about it now, and since you’ve never really cooked in this kitchen before, if it turns out terrible you can always order pizza. 

It doesn’t turn out terrible, in your opinion, and you’re actually impressed with yourself. There’s a knock on the door right when you're finishing setting the table and John scolds you for not asking who it was before opening the door. He’s still in the middle of his speech when he gets a whiff of steak and sees that the table is set nicely. 

“What’s all this?” He asks, smoothing down his expensive silk tie. 

You pull out a chair for him to sit down. “It’s just a little thank you.”

He doesn’t look happy with that answer.

“It’s me making my friend dinner… randomly?” You try again. 

He laughs and nods, accepting that instead and removes his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “Do you mind if I…” He points to his waist and waits for you to nod before unclipping the belt, putting it in the bedroom for the night. 

“Wine? Beer?” You ask, debating which you want. 

“Usually I would, but…”

You understand that he’s working, even though he’d hate it if you said it aloud, and put them both away. “How about some ice tea?”

“Sure.” John sits and folds a napkin in his lap. He’s watching you and when you bring over a plate full of food there’s an unmistaken gasp. “Wow, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You sit down too and pass him the salt and pepper. “I forgot how much fun it is to cook. I haven’t made anything since grandma was sick and I stopped eating. But today it was like she was in the kitchen with me.” You stop and close your eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was weird to say."

“Not the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He reminds you hesitantly, but with a small smile. 

Heat warms your cheeks and you have to chuckle in agreement. “True. I feel like that was so long ago though. I’m like a different person now. You must’ve thought I was crazy.” You don’t say that you’re grateful you accidentally gave your phone number to a police informant. That it was John who showed up that day. That it wasn’t some crook who could’ve used a few hundred dollars. 

“I didn’t think you were crazy.” John takes a big bite of steak and moans a little. “This is really good. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“You don’t cook much?” You ask, waiting for him to make another noise of pleasure. 

“I hate cooking for just myself.” He says, but otherwise he is disappointingly quiet. 

You take a bite of vegetables and nod in agreement, trying to hide your swelling of excitement. Well, that’s that. _He is single_. No big deal, you tell yourself to calm the hell down in your head. It doesn't matter anyway. It’s not like anything would ever happen. “So, you didn’t think I was crazy? What did you think?”

John puts down his fork and looks at you, his chin resting on his hand thoughtfully. “I thought you looked really tired. That you needed help and had nowhere else to turn.”

You gently rub a finger under your eye, where you know there used to be darkened circles. Now your eyes are bright and alive. You blush at his observation. 

“What’d you think when you saw me?” He asks, interested again in his steak but keeping an attentive ear to everything you say.

You don’t know why, but you feel a surge of confidence. “I thought I was talking to the most attractive hitman in all of New York and that there was no way I could afford your... business.” 

John raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Really?”

Shrugging, you take another bite of food and swallow. “I don’t know what I was really thinking, honestly. It was not my best day. I just wanted to get the conversation over with. I wasn’t in the right mindset.” 

“But therapy is going well?” 

You’re not surprised that he knew about that, but it does make you pause that he actually asked. “Definitely. It’s going very well. And she’s a fan of you, by the way.”

“Me?” 

“Don’t worry, she thinks you're an undercover cop.” 

John leans over his plate, trying to get closer to you. “What exactly do you say about me?”

“That’s personal!”

“Fine.” He leans back now in his chair and crosses his arms, fake disappointment in a pout on his lips. “Then I won’t tell you about what I found out today.”

You glare at him. “Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Or extortion.” He shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and sigh. “I told her about all of the nice stuff you did for me, even though it was creepy, and how you probably saved my life.”

He blinks at that, obviously not expecting you to be so forward. “Oh. And what did she say?”

“She said to be careful about you breaking into my place and stealing my car… but that it sounded like I made a really good friend.”

John is suddenly silent and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “Just… just a friend?”

Your stomach does a little flip and you’re not sure where he’s going with this. “I’m pretty sure all I can have is friends right now.” You tell him slowly, trying to get all of your words exactly right. “I need to find my worth, be happy with myself… before I can do that for someone else, you know?”

John nods and his eyes are sad for a brief second but when he looks up at you, he’s proud. “I think that’s great. And I’m happy to help remind you that you’re pretty awesome.”

“Reminders are nice.” You tell him with a small smile. “Especially considering they come from a bad ass assassin.”

John chuckles and finishes his steak. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. He looks a little tired and you wonder what he did all day.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, right. Max. He seems to be doing well. He’s living with his mom across town and he was spotted going into an AA meeting.”

You’re stunned. In a good way. “Really? He was always such a heavy drinker. That’s where I met him. At the bar across the street from the hospital. When visiting hours were over and I didn’t have to work, I’d go there a lot. And well, I guess he spotted a weak one.” You think back to those days when he was nice to you at first, which quickly changed into becoming manipulative and controlling. The final straw was when he said that you couldn’t visit your grandmother anymore. You lost it and he raised a hand at you, several times. You never want to be that weak. Ever again. “Well that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah.” John rubs at his beard. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t relapse.”

You stand up and start to clear the dishes from the table. “So you don’t have to stay the night, probably.”

“No, I’ll stay at least one more night. Just to be safe.”

You give him a disapproving look. You really hate to waste his time.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here. One more night and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That’s not at all what you meant by giving him a look so you just shake your head. “It’s nice to have the company. I just don’t think my apartment is where you want to spend your nights.”

“And where exactly do you think I spend my nights?”

The sink is full of soap and John stands to clear the rest of the plates and cups. “I picture this really fancy nightclub or rave with techno music and neon lights and beautiful women dancing around you.”

John hands over a plate and looks at you like you’re nuts. “You have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh, like that’s never happened.” You deadpan.

“Well, I can’t say never... “ John leans against the counter and offers to help you. 

“No, I got it but thank you. And also, I knew it. I just don’t see you like… dancing to techno music.” You make a face and stick out your tongue a little. You hate techno.

John laughs. “I don’t go there to dance. If I’m at a club or something it’s usually for work.”

“Ah, I see.” You move to get the dish rag to dry the silverware. “So, where do all the beautiful women throw themselves at you?”

He’s not really paying attention when he answers and he’s looking at something on the ground. “Well lately it’s been at a lake and a local gas station. Is that a bruise?” John bends down and slowly traces the swirls of black and blue colors on top of your foot. The touch stings a little but you hold still. 

“Oh uh... “ God, how stupid. You didn’t think it was that noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Your whole foot is swollen.” His eyes are huge when he stands up and looks at you, his hands on his hips. “What happened?” He growls out and you push past him, considerably embarrassed and turned on all at once. 

“I did it to myself, okay? It’s not a big deal.” 

“You’re limping.” He exasperates, but he gently puts an arm around your waist and helps guide you to sit down. You put your foot on the coffee table and it does look worse than it did yesterday, puffy and colorful. 

You grimince and don’t want to tell him. “It was just a silly accident. Sam at work already made fun of me, so let’s just forget it.”

John disappears to the kitchen and you can hear ice being gathered. He comes back and sits on the coffee table, slowly moving your foot to his lap and putting a towel full of ice by your toes, where the worst of the purples are blooming. 

“You really don’t have to do that. It’s not that bad. I was just on my feet all day and I didn’t think about it. It’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

His fingers are so gentle around your ankle and you can’t help but to stare at his big hand surrounding your delicate bones. “Hey.” John taps on your skin until you look up at him. “You’re _worth_ being taken care of, okay?”

Well, he got you there damnit. “Oh, that’s a good one.” You’re impressed and you let him hold your foot, sitting back to relax. Your therapist would be really pleased that you let someone help you.

“Are you going to tell me or are we going to sit here all night?”

You briefly tell him how you got the bruise and his fingers stop tracing over your skin long enough for him to laugh. Loudly.

“It’s not that funny.” You scowl at him.

“It’s really funny.” He’s snickering now and you swear there’s a tear at his eye. He moves to wipe it away and mumbles something like, “ _you are the cutest..._ “ and then clears his throat and straightens up. “You’ll have to show me your moves.”

“Uh, no, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for tonight, thank you.”

John rubs at your ankle again, squeezing around your leg lightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mean to the patient.”

“Exactly right.” You agree and smirk when you think of payback. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Without hesitation John takes off the towel and presses his lips to your cold skin. All you can do is stare at his beard and then at the teal nail polish on your toes. You’re speechless.

“It didn’t seem to work.” John says, disappointment in his voice. “I guess I’ll have to work on my technique.” 

He says that last part suggestively and you sit up in the chair, ready to change the subject. “I got dessert. You like pie, right?”

“Do I like pie? What kind of question is that?”

“Can you get it?” You smile sweetly at him. “It’s on the counter.”

He gives you a knowing look but lifts your foot to get up. You can see his reflection in the window as he moves around in your kitchen and you watch him in disbelief. You realize you’ve never had anyone in your apartment. Not even grandma, she was already too sick when you got it. Max always made you go to his place. John comes back with one plate and two forks, a big slice for both of you to share. 

“This is the best anyone has ever paid me to do a job.” He jokes and you smile back, taking a fork and scooping a bite for yourself. 

You point to an envelope on your desk. “Speaking of getting paid… I know it’s not much, but I did promise you--”

“I was kidding.” John cuts you off. His face is instantly annoyed and hurt. 

“John, please.” Your foot is still propped up on the coffee table and you can’t really move. “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Well, take it back.” He says and you put your hands up in defense, silently telling him not to be mad. “And you just lost pie privileges.” 

“What?”

He stands up and walks over to the couch, as far away from you as possible. “Yeah that’s right. I’m eating all of this myself.”

You huff and struggle to sit up. “That is a radical punishment.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” He takes another big bite, making a show of it. 

“That’s it.” You get up and hobble over to him, practically falling into his side and he lets out a grunt when you accidentally lean into his ribs. You decide to just lay where you are for now, you can’t move if you wanted to. “John, seriously. Pie please.”

He shakes his head with amusement and feeds you a small piece. You take it happily and let your head rest on his shoulder while he finishes and feeds you some more until it’s gone. Both of you are quiet. This is the closest you’ve ever been and you just want to feel his warmth. You know eventually you have to move so you peer up at him and smile. “You have blueberry on your lip.” You tell him, reaching to smudge it off with your thumb. At the same time he licks at it and you both laugh.

“C’mon, cripple. I’m helping you to bed.” He tells you, putting the plate and fork down on the coffee table. You use his thigh to get yourself up and he steadies your waist as you balance on one foot. You’re standing between his legs and he’s looking up at you with the sweetest eyes. 

“Thank you for dinner.” His voice is sincere and determined to get his appreciation across. 

You put your hands on his shoulders and lean some of your weight on him. “John… thank you. Thank you for everything.” And with that you let yourself drop down and you hug him hard. He pulls you close and rubs his hands over your back. His hair brushes your cheek and you breathe in deeply, his scent rushing to your head in the most pleasant high.

Awkwardly, you push yourself away and he grabs at your hands. “You want me to carry you to bed?”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs, letting you wobble towards your bedroom while he takes care of the dishes and turns out all the lights. 

When he’s satisfied everything is in the right place, he walks into your bedroom and stands in the doorway, watching you while you sit on the bed and tie your hair up over your head for the night.

“What?” 

John breaks his stare and walks around to the other side of the bed. “Nothing.” 

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” You ask, grabbing the remote to the set up you have on your dresser. You tend to fall asleep to sitcoms rather than complete silence with thoughts running through your mind at full speed. 

“Actually do you mind if I take a shower?” He asks. “I did a lot of running around.”

Your mouth goes dry and you try to get it together before he notices. “Did you get all sweaty tracking Max today?” You guess, smiling when he looks impressed that you got it right. “See, I could totally be an assassin!” Your smile fades when he points to your foot. “Okay, well I could be an assassin’s secretary. I could like, get all the payments and make appointments and travel arrangements and get your guns cleaned and all that stuff!”

He walks around to his bag and gathers a pair of clean sleep clothes. “And take care of all the dead bodies too?”

You gulp. That’s so disturbing. “Yep. And I could take you to the doctor if you get hurt real bad.” You think back to the bruised knuckles and the dried cut on his face.

He cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “That does sound helpful.” 

“Really?”

“Yes and also dangerous. You have no idea what you’re talking about."

You stand from the bed to get him a towel. “Um, just to let you know, I’ve seen all the assassin movies.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert.”

Opening your closet, you pull out the softest towel you own. “That sounds very sarcastic.” You push it to John's stomach and he grabs it from you, but you don’t let go and tug it back gently. “I’ll have you know I’m a very quick study, Mr. Wick.”

John briefly closes his eyes and takes a step closer to you. He leans in to whisper, his mouth close to your ear, “You better get off that foot.”

A giggle escapes and you sit down on the bed. “If I didn’t have a bruised foot... then could I be your secretary?”

He walks into the bathroom, and right when he closes the door he stops to tell you no.

Frowning, you crawl back to your pillows. You notice John forgot his pajamas on the bed and you’re about to get up and give them to him, but you decide not to. This should be interesting. 

You’re watching TV innocently when the bathroom door cracks open ten minutes later. Steam is hovering around John’s form and you hide your smile.

“Um… I forgot my…” He points to the clothes on the bed and you point to your foot. 

“I would help you, but I’m a cripple.” You tell him, now smiling because you can’t hide it anymore. You’re trying not to laugh. 

He glares at you when the door opens and you see the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I swear I won’t look.” You tell him, covering your eyes. 

“Are we twelve now?” He mocks, stepping out and picking up his clothes. 

Your smile fades when you look at him because _damn_. “No, we are definitely not twelve.” You murmur to yourself, and you don’t mean to gock, but he’s fresh out of the shower, glistening skin and tight muscles, toned and strong. He pushes his hair from his face and notices you watching him. 

There’s a smug grin when he turns around and your heart completely skips a beat. All you see are flashes of tattoos, black lines and shading on his back. Maybe on his arms too but it was so fast. If you could only make time stand still. 

Now you’re glaring when he comes back into the bedroom a few minutes later. He’s glancing at you very casually. “What?”

“You did that on purpose.”

He laughs and gets under the covers. “What? Forget my clothes?”

“No. Showing off all of your…” You gesture to his body. “Never mind.” You can’t believe this is happening and turn towards the TV, trying to forget the hotness laying beside you. Nope. You can’t. “John, why are you doing this?”

He sits up a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me?” There. You finally asked it. Here comes the pity party.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, confused. When you don’t say anything, he asks another question. “Would you help me if I needed it?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Well,” he lays back down and looks blankly at the TV. “There’s your answer.”

“But you hardly know me.”

He briefly glances at you. “Does it matter? I would want to help anyone. What are we watching?”

You laugh at how simple it was all this time. You should really stop overthinking everything. “Do you want to watch Friends or Seinfeld?”

“Who and what?” He asks, not knowing at all your favorite shows. 

You caress his cheek and pet him softly. “You poor, innocent man. I have a lot to teach you about laughing.”

He shoves your hand away playfully. “I watch TV… sometimes.”

“When you’re not doing assassin-y stuff.”

John sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes, when I’m not working.”

“Mmhm.” You don’t really believe him. You figure he reads a lot or studies, or does something really smart. Never really does anything just for fun. “We should totally go to a movie tomorrow!” You say it jokingly, like he would ever agree to something so mindless, but you can hardly believe it when he nods and says okay. “Really? You would go to a movie?”

“Isn’t that what friends do together, right?”

You wouldn’t have any idea. You don’t have friends and you haven’t been to the movies in ages. You hate going by yourself and you never had enough money.

“I think so?” You respond, not really knowing.

He lets out a little yawn. “All of my friends are… well, you know. I don’t see any of them going to a movie.”

“But you would?”

“With you? Yes. You’re not in the business, clearly.”

You throw a pillow at him, but he quickly catches it and puts it behind his head. You mumble to yourself _of course_ and turn off the light. “Just for that, I get to pick.”

He groans and you laugh as you tuck yourself in under the covers. You feel excited for tomorrow. Your therapist was right, you did make a good friend. Even if both of you have no idea what exactly that means. 

**

You’re still in bed when John is getting coffee from the kitchen, looking at your phone for movie times. “Don’t worry, I will not make you sit through a chick flick… or a disney movie… or a musical.” 

“Do you take cream and sugar?” John asks, popping his head into the bedroom. You nod yes to both and he disappears again.

“Oh! There’s a new sci-fi movie out. You like aliens, right? It looks scary too.”  
  


John comes back into the room with two steaming hot cups. He hands one to you carefully and you take a slow sip. “Mmm. This is really good, thank you.”  
  


He looks pleased with himself as he gets back into your bed, sitting with his legs crossed under him. His hair is messed up a little and he’s still in his pajamas. The sight is really cute. You’re kind of sad that it was the last night he’s here. You quickly got used to him in your apartment and having someone to come home to was so nice. He already mastered your crappy coffee machine and he does the dishes. But the sleepovers are done and you wish it had lasted a little longer, purely for selfish reasons. 

You must be staring at him for too long because he stops drinking his coffee and gives you a small smile. “What?”

Dunking your head, you’re embarrassed that he caught you. “Nothing.”

He grins, like he can read your mind but doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “What time’s the movie?” 

“Let’s see…” You tap at your phone, scrolling through the options. “How about this afternoon? Then we could get something to eat or whatever.”

Now he’s really smiling and now he really does call you out. “Wouldn’t this be like… a date? Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“What!” You shriek and put your coffee down on the nightstand, stretching your leg over to try and push him off the bed, but he doesn’t move an inch and just laughs at you. “Oh. My. God. Absolutely not, you weirdo. Why can’t two people just hang out? Jerry and Elaine do it all the time!” You point to the TV in your defense, trying to remind him of the show you watched last night. 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” John puts his coffee down too and grabs your foot to inspect the bruise. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, still not being able to fathom John Wick flirting with you. It’s probably all a joke to him anyway so you continue to ignore it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

He slides your pant leg up and takes a closer look. “Well, it’s not as dark as it was yesterday. Still a little swollen.”

“Told you it would be fine.”

“You’re welcome.” He cracks a smile and you remember the kiss he placed there last night. “Do you need anything else to feel better?”

“Ugh, gross.” Rolling your eyes even harder. “Your flirting is terrible.” 

He grabs at his heart like it hurts. “I take offense to that.”

“Good, that was the point.” You get up from the bed and open the closet, searching for something to wear today. “It’s probably the one thing you’re not good at.”

“I could be good at it.” He says, sipping his coffee again. “I’m just rusty. I need to practise.”

You don’t turn around. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats slowly, and then horrified, “Wait.. I’m not _skeezy_ am I?”

That makes you laugh and you sit back down on the bed. “No, John. You’re not skeezy. You’re like the opposite of skeezy. You’re too nice to be skeezy.”

“I’m too nice?”

“Yeah.” You get up again and fiddle with your hair that’s fallen in your face. “I know you say these things just to be nice to me. I know it doesn’t mean anything. It’s sweet though, it’s fun. I get it.”

Slowly, he shakes his head, trying to comprehend your thoughts. “So, you’re saying I could never be serious about flirting with you?”

“Ha, not in this lifetime.” You gather your bathrobe and head for a shower. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. I know exactly how far out of your league I am.”

Now John is the one rolling his eyes. You don’t give him a chance to say anything though and close the door to the bathroom, finally able to catch your breath a little. He still makes you nervous, you realize, and you hope the feeling fades the more time you spend with him because it seems like he needs a friend just as much as you do.

**

You’re brushing your teeth when John taps a knuckle on the door.

“Do you mind if we stop at my place before the movie?”

“You don’t want to wear a suit all day?”

“Not really.” He smiles. “And I have to pick up the dog.”

“Oh right!” You spit into the sink and wash your mouth. “I want some puppy kisses.”

John looks at your lips and then to your eyes. It’s fast, but you still see it. And if you didn’t he mutters, “tease” and leaves to go out the front door.

You grab your purse on the way out and he waits patiently for you to lock the door behind you. He has his bag with him and you’re disappointed it’s not still in your apartment. You wonder if he’s wearing all of his guns and try to sneak a peek under his suit jacket at his waist. You’re not paying attention so you run smack into his back when he stops for the elevator. 

Yep, he’s wearing one gun because you feel it hit your stomach. He looks at you oddly and reaches a hand out to steady you.

“Do you always carry a gun when you go places?”

“Usually.”

“Do you ever have to use it?”

“Sometimes.”

The elevator ride down is quiet and you wave to Francis walking by in the hallway. John nods towards him too, like they have some sort of secret understanding. 

His car is glistening in the sun and you have to admit, it is a pretty sweet ride. John opens the door for you after he throws his bag in the trunk and you move carefully, afraid you might scratch the paint job. You fold yourself neatly in the seat and stay still. 

He smoothly gets in and before you can process about how annoyingly attractive he is, the engine roars to life and he’s speeding out of your complex onto the main road. You have a hard time not watching his hands because his fingers are long and look good around the steering wheel. He drives fast but not enough to make you nervous and glances at you a few times to make sure you’re okay. You don’t say much but it’s a comfortable silence with the windows down. You watch the town go by as you start to relax. 

It’s only about a ten minute drive until the car pulls up to the most gorgeous house you’ve ever seen. Of course, this is where John would live. In a house built with huge windows and high ceilings, with a big open yard that’s perfectly manicured. 

He parks in the driveway but still pushes a button so the garage door goes up. 

“C’mon, I’ll only be a minute.” He tells you and curiosity gets the best of you because you had planned to stay in the car. 

“Are you sure? I can wait here.”

“Why?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, obvious that he thinks your question was dumb, and he moves around to open your door again. 

“Such a gentleman.” You praise, not being able to help yourself. You can’t remember the last time anyone opened anything for you.

He smiles and leads the way into the house. “Well, I try.”

“This is really pretty.” You tell him, stepping into a long hallway where you can see the living room off to one side and the kitchen off to the other. 

“You want the tour?” He asks, throwing his keys into a glass bowl and taking his suit jacket off. There are actually two guns on his belt, the one on his right hip you hadn’t seen. 

“No, it’s okay. Just seeing the downstairs is enough to make me depressed about my small apartment.”

John scoffs and opens the front door to let in some air. “I like your place. It’s comfortable there. And the cooking’s really good.”

You laugh and he steers you more into the kitchen, which is huge with a tile floor and what looks like all new appliances. “I’d love to cook in this kitchen. There’s so much room!”

“Yeah?” He stops and looks at you very seriously. “You officially have an open invitation to cook here any time.”

“Ha ha.” You push at his shoulder and walk to the big wood dining table, looking around. There are a bunch of picture frames, but they’re all in a pile on a shelf by the coffee maker. You wonder what kind of pictures he has and why they aren’t on display. You don’t want to be nosy though, so you run your finger over the espresso machine that looks like it cost more than a month of pay. “Marry me?” You bend over and ask it, breathing in deeply the scents of coffee. 

John laughs and points at a smaller hallway. “Laundry is through there.” He points at a door. “Basement.” He walks through the kitchen and into the living room, which is sparse but still lovely. You wonder if he decorated this place himself or if he had help. 

“Evening entertainment.” He points to the TV even though you see a stack of heavy books on the coffee table, some of them well read. “Upstairs?” He asks, starting for the staircase. You shrug, trying not to seem eager and interested. 

The amount of sunlight the house gets is incredible. There are windows everywhere, but you can’t see any neighbors and it’s fairly quiet. This is like your dream house. 

“Wow.” It’s all you can say when you enter the master bedroom. A huge bed in the middle that looks so very soft. There’s a sitting couch and table, with a bureau next to the walk in closet. The view is fantastic and you can even see the lake from here. You walk to the other side of his bedroom and almost press your face against the glass. “You live right across from the community college campus! That’s so cool!” 

John is in his closet, probably getting new clothes for the day, but you can hear him say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You could walk there if you wanted to! Save a ton on parking.” You mutter, more to yourself. 

Suddenly he’s right behind you, now in a white cotton shirt with long sleeves. “What do you mean?”

“I applied to go to school in the fall. I want to take some classes, maybe try for a degree or something. My place is far, so it’ll be a hassle but that’s okay.” You tug on the hem of his shirt as you walk by him, throwing your purse on the bed. “What else is up here?” You ask, peering down another long hallway.

He has a proud look in his eyes and he’s still gapping at you a little. “I didn’t know you’re going back to school.”

“Oh, something you finally didn’t know, I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I saw the application on your kitchen table but I didn’t want to assume.”

You laugh because of course he did. “Were you snooping, John Wick?”

“Never. I just observe.”

“Oh, I see.”

He opens the door to an empty bedroom with no furniture. “This was supposed to be a guest room but I never got around to it.”

“What about that room?” You point to the door at the end of the hallway. 

“My office.”

“Ooh. Do you have assassin secrets in there?” You smile teasingly and walk back to his bedroom to get your purse. 

“No, those are in the basement.”

Laughing, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You don’t think he is. 

The windows are calling again and you can’t help but to take one more look of the view. “This is just so nice. You have everything in walking distance. The lake, the school…”

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “You should move in here.”

That makes you throw your head back and really laugh. How funny. “John, don’t be stupid.”

“How is that stupid?” He asks, his tone is serious but kind. “There’s an empty room. You can walk to school. You can watch the dog for me when I go on… work trips. You would have a kitchen to cook in.”

This man seems to keep surprising you. “You’ve only known me for like a month. What if I smell bad or something?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You smell amazing.”

“What if I play loud music really late at night?”

“You can’t keep your eyes open past ten.”

“What if I have parties all weekend long?”

“While you work and go to school? Be my guest.”

“What if I’m messy and leave my clothes everywhere?”

John’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Did you just pretend to be neat while I was at your place for two days?”

He’s right, you do like a clean house. “Whatever, John.” Hoping that he drops it. “Don’t you have to get the dog?”

“Damn, stay here. I’ll be right back. Their house is just down the street.” He runs down the stairs and you can hear the screen door open and shut. 

You look around the bedroom again and take it all in. What a completely different life this would be. Not that you don’t like your apartment. It’s cozy and you’re proud of what you’ve established for yourself. This is too fancy for you anyway. Plus, you like having your space. John would be the weirdest roommate ever. You can’t even imagine. 

You jog down the stairs to wait on the couch. You spot some more picture frames stacked nicely in a pile and you’re just about to sneak a look when you can hear them approach the house.

“Puppy kisses!” You cry out and kneel down to gather a happy dog in your arms. If you had any idea this was the dog driving you mad all those nights, you would have taken him for yourself. 

“Pooch! Get down.” John’s Alpha voice is hot and both you and the dog stop everything. 

He trots over to his doggy bed anyways and plops down. “Cassey, the little girl, wore him out at the park this morning.” John says. “Are you ready to go?”

The movie! You had almost forgotten with all the excitement of being in John’s house.

“Yeah, let’s do it. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Don’t get scared.” You tell him, in a bravado voice. 

“Can we get gummy bears?” He asks and you crack up on the way back to the garage. 

“You’re a grown man, you can get whatever you want.”

John hurries to open the car door for you again. “I meant, would you have any or would you like something else?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, that’s a big decision.” You slide back into the car and think to yourself that you could really get used to the chivalry John is showing. You wonder how long it could last. “I think I have to see all my options.”

John smiles as he starts the car and lowers the garage door. “This is really serious.”

You fasten your seatbelt and get comfortable. “When’s the last time you went to a movie?”

He turns his head to back out of the driveway, putting his arm around your seat. His face is very close to yours and you notice that his eyes are a very pretty brown when he’s not working. 

“Good point.”

You grin, breaking the eye contact because it’s making your stomach fill with butterflies that you mentally quiet down. 

The theater is busy and you realize it’s a Friday during summer, so all the teenagers are here. John’s phone rings as he parks and tells you he has to take it, so you decide to get in line and buy the tickets. He’s leaning against his car, chatting while looking around at his surroundings and smiles at you when he catches you checking on him. 

You quickly see that the movie is sold out and not knowing what to do, you walk back to John and the car just as he’s finishing his conversation. It sounds like he was speaking in Russian, but you can’t be sure. “All set?” He asks, sliding the phone in his pocket and reaching to put his hand on your back. He hardly ever really touches you, but his hand hovers over your body constantly. 

“It’s sold out.” You tell him. “Do you want to see something else or maybe come back another day?”

“Oh.” He looks disappointed. “But you really wanted to see that movie.”

“It’s okay, shit happens, right?” You shrug it off easily. This is not the worst thing that could happen. Plus, you’re hanging out with John, so you could be going to the town dump and you’d be happy.

“Hold on. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He takes off towards the theater and leaves you by the car. You watch him go and it’s almost like he’s in slow motion again. You wonder how just his stride oozes that much confidence. 

In a few minutes he’s back with two tickets. “Here we go. C’mon.”

“How’d you do that?” You dumbly follow him to the theater doors and he guides you to walk in front of him.

“It’s a secret. What do you want?”

You’re still staring at him in a silent awe as he looks at the refreshment stand. A beautiful young worker comes to help and John’s gaze is just on you.

“Um… gummy bears? Right?” You ask him, trying to snap out of it. “That’s what you wanted?”

He leans in close, dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m asking what you want.”

You don’t really remember what the hell you say, but somehow John pays and leads you down a long hallway and to your seats. Now he’s really close to you and the smell of his cologne is making your legs weak. 

“You okay?”

“Yes!” It comes out too fast but you realize you’re acting weird and need to get with it. 

John nods and crosses his long legs, sitting back in the chair and shifting towards you, whispering as advertisements play on the big screen. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Do friends hold hands at the movies?”

You close your eyes. “No, John. They do not.”  
  


“Not even when I scored tickets that were sold out?”

You lean in to him and smile. “If you tell me how you did that, I might reconsider the answer to your question.”

“Hmm…” He runs fingers over his beard as he thinks. “I talked to the manager.”

“And?”

“And I paid him.”

“John!”

“What? You wanted to know, so I told you.”

You shake your head in disbelief as the lights lower and the movie starts. “You’re crazy.”

He doesn’t disagree with you, but he does turn towards the screen, still touching your elbow throughout most of the first half of the movie. When it gets really creepy, he covers his mouth every time you jump in your seat, hiding his smile. 

You somehow get closer to his shoulder, shielding your eyes and turning into his body when you jump again, grabbing onto his arm. The muscles you feel are solid, and you technically knew they were there, you just never really considered them before. And you are definitely considering them now. 

John lets you hold on to him, and even offers to hold your hand when the movie winds down and you link his pinky with yours, not wanting to totally turn him down. He seems satisfied with that and smoothes his thumb down your hand a few times before the credits roll.

“That was so good!” You exclaim, getting up from your seat and stretching. “I forgot how fun the movies are!”

“You were scared.” John teases, playfully shaking your hand with his. 

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Whatever, you were scared too.” You tell him, pushing the heavy doors open and heading to his car. The sky is darker now and the wind has picked up, chilling your arms. You wish you had brought a sweater.

“I was definitely not scared.” John laughs, his hand hovering over your back again. You feel it because you stop for a car and his arm is suddenly pressed into your waist. He moves quickly though, opening the door for you to get inside. 

He turns on the heat as soon as he can and asks where you want to eat. 

“It’s up to you. I could go for anything.”

“Sushi?”

That surprises you and you can’t help but look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t know John Wick likes sushi. I see you more of an all meat kinda guy.”

“I have a very sophisticated pallet.”

“Oh, my mistake.” You laugh and tell him to lead the way. 

He takes you to a really nice place and you talk about the movie and the food all throughout dinner. It’s nice, not forced, and fun. These past two days, even with the weird circumstances, have been really _fun_. You want to pay for the dinner, but of course John beats you to it without you even realizing until it’s far too late. You glare at him and tell him that friends usually split the check. He apologizes with a sparkle in his eye and you know he’s not sorry at all.

When John pulls up to your apartment you thank him for such a great day. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to be scared?” He asks, after telling you he had fun today too.

“Yes, John.”

“I could spend the night again, just to make sure.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. And you have to get back to Pooch.”

“You could spend the night at my place.” John offers, completely innocent but realizes what he says and adds, “I could take the couch, of course.”

“Good bye, John.” You tell him and he wants you to let him know if you need anything, or if you hear from Max. “I will.” Waving, you open the car door before he can get out and do it for you. The walk up to your apartment is quiet and just a little lonely. 

Once you get inside it’s worse, but you try to ignore it. Instead, you lay in bed where John had slept and cuddle the pillows. 

He texts you once he’s home, to make sure you made it to the apartment okay.

_You didn’t let me walk you upstairs_ , he texts with a sad face.

Instead of telling him that you’re a grown up or you don’t need his protection, you simply text back _next time_. 

You really hope there’s a next time.

TBC

<https://nicb0723.tumblr.com/>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet John in an unconventional way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Mention of depression
> 
> A/N: Marcus is alive

**

The next shift you work Officer Saunders stops in and introduces himself as Jimmy. He’s the same officer friend John did the favor for that fateful day and he’s also the officer who helped you get Max put away. What are the odds?

“He hasn’t come around or anything, right?”

You’re stocking the medicine section and squating on the floor, so you have to keep looking up as Jimmy keeps asking you questions. “No, sir. I haven’t heard anything from him. I actually heard he’s in rehab, so that’s good?”

“You hear that from John?”

“Yep. Don’t ask me how he found out.”

Jimmy smirks and adjusts his police cap on his head. “John knows a lot about everything it seems.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s kind of annoying.”

He laughs and helps you up when you’re finished with the last box. “I can see why John likes you, you tell it like it is.”

Smiling, you walk behind the counter to start on the schedule for next week. “Yeah? I probably annoy him too then.”

“Hmm, not the way he tells it. I’ve never seen him--” Jimmy gets cut off when his radio beeps loudly and he has to go. Before he leaves he tells you to give him a call if anything comes up, and you wonder what he was going to say. 

**

A few days later John wants to take you out to celebrate your promotion, but you tell him that the movie and sushi were plenty, but thank you anyway. He goes silent until he shows up at the gas station a few hours later.

“Hey!” You greet him with a warm smile. You secretly love it when he surprises you at work. “What’re you doing here?” John is wearing a suit again and you instinctively reach to his forehead where there’s a cut and bruise forming. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He grabs your hand before you can touch his sensitive skin. “I’m fine, just work.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t realized he had a job since you saw him last. He kept texting you every day like usual and didn’t mention it. For some reason it hurts your feelings, that he would keep something from you. “You didn’t tell me you were working.”

“It was quick. Didn’t even have to leave town. In and out.” 

“Oh.” You don’t really know what to say. “Okay.”

He’s still holding on to your hand and he’s just looking at you with a small grin.

“What’s that look for?”

“I mean, maybe my face does hurt a little.”

“Really?” You’re instantly concerned. “You want me to look at it? Do you want some aspirin or something?”

Slowly he shakes his head, looking at you intently. “I think we know what the best remedy is for a bruise. How’s your foot?”

You realize that he wants a kiss and push him gently away. “John, stop. I was seriously worried.”

He laughs at your innocence and bows his head for forgiveness, but he’s still smiling. 

“Is that all you came here for?” You ask, bored of his antics but really it’s all just an act. You still get the butterflies.

“Well, no, Miss Assistant Manager, I really do want to take you out to celebrate.”

You sigh loudly. “I thought we already talked about this.”  
  


“No, you talked about it.” John follows you up to the counter when the bell dings, signaling a customer came in. You quickly ring the couple up and they’re on their way back to a van full of screaming kids. John keeps himself busy looking at the magazine rack until you’re done.

“I have a feeling you won’t take no for an answer?”

He gives you the most pitiful expression, making you feel guilty. “If you want me to be sad, I’ll take the no.”

“Fine, John. But I have to work the next few days and I don’t really feel like going out.”

“I can cook. Just come over after your shift tomorrow.”

You give him a doubtful look. “You’ll cook or order take out?”

“I can cook… do you like grilled cheese?”

Laughing, you lean against the counter and smile. “Actually, that sounds good. Want me to bring anything?”

“Nope. I got this.” He tells you confidently. His phone beeps and he briefly looks at it. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I might be tired and grumpy after my shift, just warning you.”

He’s looking at you like he wants to do something, maybe give you a hug or tuck your hair behind your ear. He doesn’t though and starts to step towards the door. “I like a good challenge. You remember where I live?”

“Yes, I remember.” 

“Text me when you get home tonight.”

“Okay.” You never do and that just makes him frustrated until he texts you first, about thirty minutes after he knows your shift is over. He’s done it every night since going to the movie. You know he still has the motion detectors cameras on his phone so instead, you just wave at the cameras. 

Still though, it makes you feel special.

**

You end up bringing some homemade cookies you had time to bake since you didn’t have to be at work until eleven this morning. You got off at seven and the day had dragged on. Around seven thirty you get to John’s house, lit up and inviting. 

When you walk in you can’t mistake the smell of scented candles in the air. You try to hide a smile when you see John in the kitchen and he has on an apron, busy with whatever he’s making. He doesn't hear you until the dog makes a scene and demands your attention, wagging his tail and almost knocking you over. 

You gladly give it to him after putting the cookies on the counter and kneel on the floor, petting him and giving smooches. 

“Pooch! Off!”

The dog immediately obeys and runs towards John. 

“Can’t a girl get some love around here?” You ask, setting your purse down. You wore your tight jeans and took off your sweater in the car, leaving you in a black tank top. Usually you don’t show this much skin, but it’s hot out today and the air is broken at work.

John is good about not staring for too long, but he definitely notices. “No. I’m jealous.”

You walk towards him and open your arms for a hug. It’s the least you can do. “Hi. Thank you for making me dinner.”

His smile is worth the slightly awkward hug, which you have to stand on your tiptoes for. His hands are careful on your back, like you’re made of glass.

“How was your day?” He asks, pulling out a stool for you to sit and keep him company. 

“Long. Boring. I’m only slightly grumpy and tired.”

He grabs some white wine. “I think I can help with that. Or would you rather something else?”

“No, that’s perfect. Thank you. How was your day?” You don’t drink much wine, never really being able to afford it, but you can tell this bottle is expensive. It’s smooth and crisp, and it does make you relax.

“A little busy, actually. I have to go out of town next week for work.”

“Oh really?” You’re glad he’s telling you about a job this time. You don’t think a lot of people get to know about John Wick’s life and you like that he includes you in it. “Where are you going? Or maybe you can’t tell me?”

He’s focused on chopping lettuce. “California, probably San Francisco but the target might move.”

“Do you get to have any fun after you’re… done? Like, explore the city or anything?”

John shrugs and moves on to slice a tomato. “It’s not really a vacation. And I’d like to get home.”

“You probably want to rest, right?” You don’t mention that he might have to heal too, from the looks of quick jobs John has had, you can’t imagine how he’d come home after a job that lasts a few days. The bruise on his forehead has faded a little, and the cut is small but deep.

“Yeah. And lately I have things to look forward to now.” He glances to Pooch and then to you.

You’re getting really good at dodging his comments. “Do you want me to watch him while you’re gone? I’d be happy to.”

“I already promised Cassey, but thanks for offering.”

“Okay, just know the offer is always there.” You’re only a little disappointed. You like being able to help John out, especially after everything he’s done for you. 

He smiles brightly and grabs a plate of steaks you hadn’t seen, but you were wondering what that great smell lingering in the kitchen was. “Are you hungry?”

“No grilled cheese?”

“I was joking, I can at least grill some meat for you.”

You clutch your heart and head over to the table, first grabbing the bowl of vegetables he was slicing up. “My prince charming.” 

He laughs and gets the glasses of wine he had poured. This is perfect. It’s not fancy, but it’s really nice and you can tell he put in some effort. Both of you slide into chairs and he picks up his glass to clink it with yours. “Congratulations on your promotion. You deserve it.”

You blush and smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do all of this. We should have just gone out.”

“Nonsense.” He says and starts in on his salad. “I agree with you, this is better than sitting in a restaurant.”

You take a bite of your steak and moan. “This is so good. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. I ate out all the time when grandma was in the hospital. This is a great treat.”

He puts his fork down and only hesitates a little, meaning another comment is about to come. “You know if you lived here, we could do this all the time.” 

Avoid and deflect, your new strategy. “So, San Francisco, huh? Have you ever been there before?”

He just shakes his head as usual at the way you change the subject. It seems you both are catching on to each other. “A few times. The food there is good. I don’t really leave the hotel much besides for work.”

“Do you ever get nervous, like before doing… whatever it is you’ll do?”

He takes a sip of wine. “Not anymore. I used to though. But now I do research, prepare, and survey first so I know what I’m walking into.”

You’re very intrigued. This is all so interesting. “How did you get started? I mean… was this what you wanted to do?” That would be really weird if John did choose this life. Choose to kill people. You don’t know if you can still hang out with him if he says yes.

“No, no… not at all. It’s actually a really long story. So is how I tried to get out.”

You look at him thoughtfully. “Sucks being good at something that you hate, hmm?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay, just one more question and I’m done.”

John smiles and tells you to go ahead.

“Is it a natural talent or did you have to train?”

“Both. I went to an assassin school. In Russia.” He shifts in his chair, and you can tell he’s wondering if he’s telling you too much. “And Italy.”

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what you could call it.”

Wow. You had no idea something like that would even exist. “It’s like something out of a movie.” 

He laughs softly. “I wish it was just a movie sometimes.”

“Well, if it were a movie you wouldn’t be sitting here with me eating this delicious steak.”

“That’s true. Are you sure it’s good?”

“Mmm.” You say with your mouth full and after you swallow, “Positive.” 

Both of you continue to eat and when you’re almost done John asks, “Did I see some cookies on the counter?” 

You nod and tell him not to judge. “I haven’t baked in a long time.”

“No judgement,” John agrees. “Do you think you can stay awhile and we can watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, I don’t have to be at work until late afternoon.” You stand to help clear the dishes. When John starts to protest you tell him to stop it and you’re helping. 

The kitchen gets cleaned up fast and both of you fall on to the couch easily. You both had busy days and both of you are tired, so the TV is low and something is on, but you’re not really paying attention. After John gets up to let the dog out and grab some cookies, he sits closer to you. 

You side eye him suspiciously, but he just breaks a cookie in half and offers it to you. 

“Hey! Not bad,” You’re impressed with yourself yet again. 

“I would pay you to make these for me.” John says seriously. 

You elbow him in the side. “Just tell me when you want a batch and you got it.”

“Score.” He quietly celebrates a victory which makes you giggle. 

Before you know it, he’s covering you up with a blanket and turning the TV off. You must’ve fallen asleep because you’re completely stretched out on the couch and it’s incredibly comfortable.

You don’t want to get up but instead you yawn and mumble, “I should go home.” 

John kneels down beside the couch and you can feel a fingertip brush the hair out of your face. “It’s too late for you to drive.” He whispers softly. “You want to sleep in the bed? I can sleep down here.”

You don’t open your eyes and hope that he keeps touching you. “No, this is so good.” You tell him sleepily. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can leave. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice is still soft, and so is the touch of his thumb against your cheek. “Of course I don’t mind. Just come upstairs if you get uncomfortable, okay?”

“Mm’kay.” You wait for him to gather the dog and turn off all the lights except one in the kitchen before he goes upstairs. Then you hear the sounds of the water running as he washes up and footsteps towards his bed. You weren’t lying, the couch is very comfortable but your jeans are not and you wiggle out of them, leaving you in boyshorts underwear and thin tank top. You slide out of your bra too, and toss your clothes in a pile on the floor. You figure you’ll sleep for a few more hours and then head home, before John will see you in the morning. 

You sleep hard for a while and the sound of whining startles you awake. Pooch is crying, his snout practically in your face and you sit up, trying to figure out where the hell you are. You eventually recognize the living room and assume he has to go outside, so you tip toe towards the sliding glass door and open it for him. He doesn’t go out and cries some more, staring at you and walking in between your legs, bumping at your knees. 

“What do you want? Food? Money?” You whisper and he starts up the steps towards upstairs, turning around to look at you again. He’s waiting for you to follow him? And then you hear a bang, like something heavy fell on the floor above. You hear John grunt and it doesn’t sound good at all. 

Rushing past the dog, you run up the stairs as fast as you can without falling. There’s hardly any light but you can make out shapes of furniture as you start to wake up. “John! Are you okay?” You whisper loudly because what if he’s just fine? You’re probably panicking for no reason. He doesn’t answer though and you find him sitting on the floor, his back leaning against his bed. 

“What’re you doing down here?” You run your palm over his forehead and push his hair from his eyes. He’s sweating and clammy. He must be running a fever. “John, are you sick?”

“I don’t know.” He finally answers, and he’s holding the side of his stomach. “I think… I think it’s my appendix.”

You reach to turn on the lamp on the bed side table and you both squint at the sudden brightness. “Are you sure? Let’s get you back into bed.” He’s really heavy and you’re probably not helping very much, but he does manage to lay back down, hand still clutching his side. 

You sit on the bed, pushing up his t-shirt and pulling away his hand. “I don’t see anything.” Running your hand down his stomach, you notice it is a little swollen. It’s usually flat and slim under his tight t-shirts. Not that you’ve been looking or anything…

You also see a smatter of scars across his skin, a long jagged one under his belly button that probably came from a fight and from the looks of it, John is lucky to be alive. You stare for a little too long until he groans softly. 

And damn. He’s holding his _right_ side. 

“Okay, no problem.” You tell him calmly, trying to get him to look at you instead of squeezing his eyes shut from pain. “I’m just gonna drive you to the hospital and they’ll fix you all up.”

“I usually avoid hospitals.” He breathes out, finally looking at you. “What’re you wearing?”

Oh _God_. You look down at yourself and your tank top is not really covering anything up, especially as you’re leaning over and your legs are bare, underwear completely on display. You quickly situate yourself the best you can. “Um, I got comfortable. And that’s not really important right now.”

John leans back on the pillow and whimpers again, but this time not because of the pain. “I can’t believe the first time you’re in my bed and I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Alright here we go.” You ignore him and start running around his room, not caring you’re just in underwear right now. “We gotta get you some pants and some shoes and your wallet. What else…” Talking to yourself helps calm your nerves and eventually, after opening his huge closet and most of the dresser drawers, you find some sweatpants and slippers he can wear. “Okay, we gotta get you downstairs. Are you ready to walk?” 

John looks you up and down again, his face flushing and he grumbles. “Yeah, I’ve had much worse than this.” He has to stop a few times down the stairs though to breathe, waiting out the sharp pains until they dull enough so he can keep going.

You put his arm around your shoulders and your arm around his hips and the both of you go slow and steady. “Good job! You’re doing great. We’re almost there. Do you know where your wallet is?” Your voice is high and squeaky but you can’t help it. You know you need to hurry so his appendix doesn’t burst. 

“It’s in the bowl.”

You find it quickly and leave him to lean on the couch while you shuffle back into your jeans and turn around so you can slip your bra back on. You find your shoes by the other side of the couch and realize John must have taken them off for you. That was sweet. “Okay, purse. I just need my purse and then we can go. Oh and my keys.” You walk back into the kitchen and find all of your stuff and rush back to John, who is walking slowly towards the closet.  
  


“Here, wear my jacket. You’ll freeze.”

You slip the suit jacket on and smell John all around you. It’s so good. _Focus_. “I have your phone, do you need anything else?”

“We’re taking my car.” 

“You can’t drive!”

John just looks at you, sweaty hair falling in his eyes. “You can drive my car.”

“Umm… No, I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, let’s go.” John uses the wall to steady himself until you catch up to him, circling your arm carefully around his waist to help. You realize his whole body is shaking. 

“John, I can’t drive your car, what if I crash it?”

“You won’t.”

You feel bad for arguing with him when he’s sick, so you don’t say anything else and guide him gently to sit down in the passenger seat. You lean over to put his seatbelt on and you swear he smells your hair.

“Okay, I can totally do this. Where the hell am I going?” You ask as you press the button to open the garage door and start the car. John finds his phone that was in your purse and turns on Maps. 

“If I do go to the hospital, this is where I go.”

You put his phone where you can see it and the hospital is actually pretty close, only about a ten minute drive. “When did you have to go to the hospital last?”

He looks very uncomfortable and stiff so you reach over and grab his hand. He quickly threads his fingers through yours and leans back a little. “Uh, I got shot on a job and drove three hours.”

You try not to seem horrified. “Why didn’t you stop somewhere else?”

“I thought I could get the bullet out myself.”

_Perfectly reasonable_ you think to yourself, sarcastically. “You couldn’t do it?”

John whimpers when you drive over a few bumps, but otherwise this car is a smooth ride. “There was too much blood and I also sprained my wrist, so I couldn't get a good grip.”

“Is this worse than being shot?” You ask, trying to keep him distracted. 

“Neither are fun.”

You bite at your lip as you concentrate on the road. There’s no traffic because it’s so late and the hospital is close. “You’ll probably go right into surgery. I’ll check in on Pooch, okay? Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“No.”

You’re surprised he agreed so quickly and glad he doesn’t give you a hard time about it. 

“Are you sure?”

There it is. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay well, just stay at the house. Use the garage door opener to get in and out. Eat whatever you want. You can stay in my room, don’t--” He grabs at his stomach and winces, “don’t sleep on the couch. And his food is in the laundry room and he likes to run around in the backyard.”

“Anything else?”

He squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course, John.” You pull up to the emergency door and put the car in park. “Friends take care of each other, right?” 

The car door opens and you hurry around to help John get inside. You stay with him as long as you can, talk to the doctor, give the nurse your phone number so they can call you when he’s out of surgery, and try to fill out as much paperwork as you can. When it’s time for you to leave, you lean over John and press your palm to his beard. 

“It’ll be over before you know it, okay? I’ll be here when they’re done.”

John weakly smiles at you and they start to wheel him away.

All you can do is hope you got here in time and that everything goes okay.

**

The drive back to your apartment sure is different in John’s fancy car. You don’t really want to drive it more than you have to and just stop by quickly to pack a small bag with your medicine, some clean clothes, and your old laptop. 

You leave John’s suit jacket on the back of a kitchen chair. You like that there's something of his at your place. 

Back at John’s house it’s quiet. Not too quiet though. It’s peaceful here. The dog is plenty company and you nap in his bed just because if you didn’t, he’d probably know and never let you hear the end of it. It really is the best bed you’ve ever slept in. Never mind the fact it smells like John, the pillows are soft and the sheets expensive. Definitely not from Target, like your own.

The kitchen is spacious, but you don’t cook anything except some toast to go with your bowl of cereal. You do eat the rest of John’s fruit though, and remind yourself to stop at the store so he has some fresh food in the house when he gets home. The only thing you feel slightly guilty about is taking advantage of the amazing bathtub adjacent to his bedroom. He only has some shaving cream, soap, and shampoo so you don’t think you’re completely invading his space, but it still feels weird. 

The view really is fantastic and you drink coffee, just staring out the window for the longest time. You look over to the lake and think about that day. You can’t see the picnic table where you first met John and for that, you are grateful. You still know it’s there though, but what matters is that you are on a completely different side of it now. You think about living here and how things could be. The fantasy is quite compelling, but that’s really all it is. It’s fun to think about though.

You get anxious for John to be out of surgery and you can’t stop looking at your phone. To keep occupied you walk around his living room a few times, noticing something new each round. The old books on the coffee table, the candles in the corner, and Pooch’s toys here and there. You half expect to find piles of picture frames, but they’re gone. There are a few photos of Pooch on the refrigerator door, but that’s it. The house could easily be considered cold and empty, but somehow it’s not. 

You finally get a call that John is doing well and ready to go home. He’s pale when you enter his recovery room and you immediately go to his side. 

“Hey, you feeling better?”

“Mmm.” He mumbles, still sleepy from the drugs. “Good as new.”

“Are you ready to go home?”

He nods, his eyes blinking slowly and you listen as the nurse explains that he’s lucky he got here when he did because his appendix didn’t rupture and just had to be removed. John needs to rest, he can’t get the incision sight wet or dirty, drink a lot of fluids, and he can’t lift anything over ten pounds. You get the prescription for his pain pills and she leaves you to go get a wheelchair. 

You go downstairs to get the car and John sleeps the whole way home. 

Getting him in bed should be interesting, but he’s more stable than you thought he’d be. You don’t try the stairs though and instead put him on the couch, covering him up with a blanket and putting the dog outside for some quiet. 

“Do you need anything?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the couch and you rub his shoulder a little. 

“Just you, here with me. Thanks for staying.”

“Duh, I’m happy to.” You smile, and it’s so true. You owe John a million debts in favors and this is just the start. “I’m gonna run and get some food and your pain pills, okay? You’re just going to sleep for awhile.”

“You’ll come back?”

“I promise I’ll be right back.”

He takes your hand from his shoulder and kisses the back of it, pressing his warm lips to your skin. You would have gotten a flutter of butterflies, but he promptly falls asleep and you doubt he’ll even remember the gesture.

You let the dog back in and calm him down before you leave so John has company if he wakes up. The trip to the store is fast and you’re glad you had already packed a bag so you don’t have to stop at your place. It feels weird driving your own car again, but you can’t bring yourself to drive John’s now that you don’t need to, but the memory behind the wheel will always be there.

It’s starting to get dark when you arrive back at his house and you peek in the living room to see if he’s up. He’s petting Pooch and sitting with a pillow behind his back. 

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

You leave the bags of groceries on the counter, not being able to resist going to him. “You know, he came to wake me up last night.”

John looks surprised. “Really?”

“Yep, he saved you.”

“No,” John laughs softly. “You saved me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

“Drive yourself to the hospital?” You guess and he shrugs. Yeah, he would have. You point to his stomach and you can see the bandage through his white shirt. “You’re gonna have a scar.” 

“Yes, another one.” He sighs, but it’s not sad. It’s just a fact.

“Are you hungry? You must be. How about some soup?” You get up from the couch and pat Pooch on the head. John grabs your hand to keep you there. 

“Seriously, thank you.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “You would’ve done the same for me, right?” 

Ah, that seems to get at him, finally. He scoffs and lets your hand go. “Okay, you’re right. It is weird accepting help after all this time.”

“Told you.” You poke at his beard, where you think there’s a hidden dimple and head to the kitchen. “And it feels good to help you, so I get where you were coming from.” 

“Good.” He struggles to get up and you go back to his side. 

“What’re you doing?”

He holds his stomach and uses the couch to help him stand. “I have to use the restroom.”

“Oh,” You help him walk slowly down the hallway and the more he walks, the more balanced he becomes. You leave him to do his thing and turn on the stovetop, dumping the premade soup you had bought in a pot and turn the oven on to warm some bread. The kitchen is so nice and everything seems to be brand new, shiny stainless steel. 

John makes it to the kitchen all by himself and goes to the counter to sit down. You want to tell him he should probably go lay on the couch, but his color is coming back and he looks more awake.

“This is not how I planned the rest of our night going.” 

That makes you perk up. “And what exactly were you planning?”

“Well, not a trip to the hospital. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

You shake your head and pull out a chair to sit by him. “I got my shifts covered for the next few days. Consider me your nurse, Mr. Wick.”

First shock and then heat crosses his face. “Are you sure? I feel terrible… but not enough to send you away.”

You laugh and get up to find some bowls. “It’s absolutely fine. I have a ton of vacation hours I didn’t even know I had. And all the high school kids want more hours before school starts. I can work on the schedules from my computer, so you have nothing to worry about.”

His eyes track your every movement, even when you open wrong drawers or cabinets, he never corrects you. He’s letting you find your own way and just watches you thoughtfully. “I’m gonna take you on a real vacation.” It almost sounds threatening. 

Smiling, you don’t say anything as you pour the soup and gather warm bread in a basket. “Bon appetit.” You tell him sarcastically. Grocery store soup is not the best, but it’s all you could come up with at the last minute. He doesn’t eat a lot anyway and is quickly full after just a few bites. You bet he’ll be wanting some more food in a while, but all the drugs are still in his gut. 

He watches as you clean up, the same look in his eyes while you were making dinner, like he can’t believe you’re still here. You let him observe and do your own thing, getting Pooch some dinner too, fresh water and letting him out while you rinse off the dishes and put the rest of the groceries away. 

When you’re all done, you turn to him and ask if he wants to go to bed. 

“I think I’m gonna take a shower first.” He says, “I feel gross.”

“John, you can’t do that, remember?” You tell him, opening the glass door for Pooch to come back in for the night. “You can’t get your bandage wet.”

He groans in frustration. “Great.”

You lean over and pretend to smell his armpit. “You do stink,” and he instantly smells himself, glaring at you when he realizes you’re joking.

With the most pitiful look, he pouts. “Help?”

“What’d you want me to do? Give you a sponge bath?”  
  


His spirit lifts and you haven’t seen him smile like this since yesterday. “Are you offering?”

You lean against the counter and stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“I think my appendix bursting is the best thing that ever happened to me.” He slowly gets off the chair and starts to head upstairs. 

“It didn’t burst!” You call out after him and start to turn out all the lights. You consider grabbing your overnight bag you had put in the living room. You can’t imagine not sleeping in the same room as John. What if he needed something? You get it and jog up the stairs. You find John in his bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat, waiting for you. “It did not burst.” You repeat, having a feeling that John is acting like this just to get attention but you doubt you’ll never know for sure. 

He pouts some more. “It felt like it did.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m going into nurse mode, so no funny business.” You’re stern but you really have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. You decide to just pretend you do and go to his closet to get a bunch of towels. You lean into the shower and grab the soap and shampoo, then start the water in the sink to get it warm. He’s watching you here too, but his gaze is less intense and softer than you have ever seen before. “This might hurt, take your time.” You help him slowly take his shirt off, trying not to jostle his side, and throw it to the floor. 

Your breath catches in your lungs. This is the first time you’ve seen him up close without a shirt and the scars littered across his chest are in all different shapes and forms, some faded almost white while others still pink and fresh. You’re relieved when you see that they’re all closed up at least, and healing. You wonder if he stitched them himself or if he had help. 

He watches while you take in your fill and you get embarrassed. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s fine, I got to see most of you last night.” He teases. “This is only fair.”

Now you’re embarrassed for an entirely different reason and you can feel the burn on your cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

He smirks and blushes too. “I definitely remember.”

“Shut up,” You tell him, with no force and you grab a washcloth to get it wet and soapy. “Okay, you can probably do your front by yourself?”

He seems disappointed but takes the towel from you, quickly rubbing over his chest and arms, up his neck and face. You give him a fresh cloth with just warm water so he can wash the suds away. Motioning for him to turn sideways on the seat, you slide your fingers through his hair. “Do you want me to wash it?” 

“Mm.. maybe tomorrow?” His head is bent down and he seems to be almost swaying at your touch. 

You get the soapy towel from him and start on his shoulders, letting the water drip down his tattoos. “What does it mean?” You ask, tracing the ink, not being able to help yourself.

“Fortune favors the brave.” He answers and pauses. “I got it while I was in the Marines.”

That explains a lot. You notice the two crosses, the large one on his back and the other on his shoulder. You think back to the first day you met him, asking if he was religious and he didn’t answer you. The tattoos only add mystery and you don’t want to press him anymore, but it’s hard to look away. They’re captivating and your interest only increases when you start to count all the scars carved into his skin here too. 

You have to take a deep breath to get it together and quickly finish up. He probably thinks you're crazy for staring so long. 

“Do you want to put on a clean shirt?” You hand the wash cloth back to him so he can do whatever he needs on his lower body while you step out. 

“No, just some clean shorts. They’re in the top drawer.” 

You try not to look at his underwear and grab the first pair you see, then hand them to him. He hesitates before asking, “Can you sleep in the bed? Like we did at your place?”

“Yeah, of course.” You see his shoulders relax as soon as you agree and he smiles. “I’ll get changed out here. You finish up and I’ll tuck you in.”

He’s beaming now, but you can see he’s starting to get tired. “Best nurse ever.”

You shut the door and get into your pajamas, another tank top but shorts this time, and pull back the covers. Pooch is sprawled out on his bed and you try to think of anything else you need before you lay down too. Crap. Quickly, you go back downstairs to get some water and his pain pills. When you get back, John is sliding under the sheets in just a pair of black boxer briefs. 

You don’t let the sight get to your head and set the glass by John, handing him a pill after. “Take this.”

He stares at it blankly and then smiles at you. “I’d rather have a kiss to make it feel better.”

That does get to your head and you're dizzy with affection. You don’t know how much longer you can keep up this game of cat and mouse with him. “Take it and we’ll see.”

Eagerly, the pill is swallowed and you crawl into bed, scooting close to where John lays very still. He looks very pleased with himself and you roll your eyes before gently kissing him on the forehead.

“There.” 

“I feel like my injury deserves at least two.” His voice is low and deliberate, but he’s teasing. You sigh, pretending to be annoyed, and give him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, right above his beard.

“Happy?”

He nods once and with reflexes you’re surprised are so fast, grabs your arm before you scoot away from him. “Thank you for staying.”

You put your head on his pillow, your nose rubbing against his shoulder back and forth. Carefully, you place your hand on his stomach above the bandage. “Does it hurt?”

He puts a hand on top of yours. “Less than a bullet, more than being stabbed.”

You grin against his skin. “Ah, I totally understand.”

“What are you going to go to school for?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re still taking classes in the fall, right?” He waits for you to nod. “Well what for?”

You hadn’t really given it much thought, knowing you’d have to take prerequisite courses before a decision had to be made at the community college. “I don’t know yet. Maybe business… why?”

“I was just thinking…” He turns his head to look at you. “You would make a really good nurse.”

You giggle softly and pull yourself away to turn off the light. “John, I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“Oh…” 

The light switches off and you start to get comfortable. John pulls you towards him again and this time you protest. 

“I’m gonna bump you in the middle of the night.”

He doesn’t let go. “No, you won’t. It’ll make me feel better.”

The bed is big enough, but you lay next to him, planning to move away once the pill kicks in and he passes out. He surprises you though, by lifting his arm and scooping you even closer so you’re completely pressed into his side with his hand trailing down your back. 

“Sometimes I bleed a lot…”

It’s dark and you can’t see his face, but his body is really warm. “What?”

“After working… I’m usually bleeding somewhere.”

“Sounds like you need to get better at your job.”

“Haha.”

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“If you bleed on me, I will puke all over you.”

He yawns and presses his mouth to your forehead. “I can’t stand the sight of puke.”

You try not to because he’s falling asleep, but the irony makes you laugh. This would never work.

**

The next day you let John sleep while you make bagels and peanut butter. You cut up an apple too and decided on tea instead of coffee, which you’re sure he’ll be mad about. 

You’re right. He is grumpy and until you offer to wash his hair, he’s frowning the whole morning. 

You find a stool in his office and make him lean his head back in the bathroom sink. You play with his hair longer than you had planned, but seeing the blissed out look on his face is worth it. Your fingers really start to massage his scalp until he lets out a little moan, his lips parted and suddenly he opens his eyes. You notice again what a soft brown they are. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Nails gently scratching at his neck, you stop and start to squeeze up the back of his head. “What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to have to stop.”

“Why?”  
  


“Because… it’s starting to feel too good.”

Immediately you freeze and don’t dare look at his lap. “Oh! Oh… sorry… that’s not what I was trying to do. At all.”

“I know.”

You rinse his hair and twist a towel around, just like you do for yourself after a shower. “Feel better now?”

Right away, John takes the towel and pats his hair dry, going to sit on his bed. “Yes, thank you.”  
  


“Well, I think I’ll take Pooch out for awhile and then head home.”

He looks up, startled. “What? Why?”  
  


“Why what?”

“You’re not staying?”

“John, you need to rest. You should just sleep and watch TV all day.”

“Yeah, but… do you have to work?”

You shake your head and sit on the bed too. “No, not until tomorrow.”

He starts to smile at that. “So, you can spend one more night?”

You give him a look. “You were fine last night, you slept like a log.”

His face falls again with concern. “Did I snore? Did you not sleep? Were you not comfortable?”

“No, I was fine.” You were more than fine. You woke up cuddled into John while he was still sleeping and you let the fantasy run through your mind for a while, probably more than you should have, and now he wants you to stay. It’s becoming a little intense and then you brilliantly decided to wash his hair, which was probably torture for the both of you. You need a mental break. You need some space. “I’ll stay if you promise to rest, how about that?”

“I'll do whatever you want.”

You walk over to the big window in the bedroom and look out to the view again. Maybe you can walk to the campus and see about what classes you should take. It would only take about fifteen minutes to get there. Or you could take Pooch to the lake. When you look out the west side of the window you can see a ton of people already unpacking their cars and sailboats are leaving the dock. When you tell John what your plans are he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

He presses his hand to his side, above the stitches and his shoulders slump too. “I just… I wanted to do those things with you. You should go, of course. I just wish I could too.”

“It looks too hot out for all that.” You change your mind when you see how sad he is. You couldn’t possibly go now. An image of the both of you holding hands and taking a walk around the lake floats through your thoughts. “I’m just gonna take him out front and throw the ball around, and then I have some work to do.”

John breathes out and leans back on a pillow. He’s starting to get tired again. “Okay.”

“Do you want to go downstairs? Read? Watch some TV?” He doesn’t say anything and grabs a remote from his bed stand. What you thought was an armoire is actually a stand for a TV when the doors slide open. “Well, that’s convenient. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.” He mumbles, his eyes starting to blink slowly. You watch as his head falls a little and you cover him up with a spare blanket, shutting the TV off and closing the blinds before you leave. 

It actually is really hot outside and Pooch is panting as he brings you back the yellow tennis ball for the fifth time. He stops at a noise and takes down the driveway, running fast and you call out but he ignores you. You try to yell his name in a more alpha voice, like John does but that doesn’t do anything except make you feel like an idiot. When you get to the shrubs at the front of John’s property you see a young girl on her bicycle, talking to Pooch and petting his head.

“Hi?” You greet and think this must be the neighbor girl who watched the dog while John was staying at your place. “Are you Cassey?”

She smiles up at you shyly, shielding the sun from her eyes. “Yeah! Can Pooch play with me?”

You laugh and tell her just for a few minutes. It’s hot and it’s time for his lunch. She seems fine with that and gets off her pink bike. “Are you John’s new friend?”

You’re surprised that she knows who you are. “Yes, I guess that’s me.”

She giggles as Pooch attacks her with kisses, his weight making her sit in the yard and she screams in delight. It’s a really cute scene. Cassey has brown pigtails and a shirt with a sparkly rainbow on it. Pooch suddenly turns towards you, running at full speed and all you can do is sit in the grass too, until he gets his fill of more kisses before he darts back to Cassey, running circles between the two of you and wagging his tail. 

“Do you like it when Pooch visits?” You ask, standing up and brushing green stains from your jeans. 

“Yeah! We have so much fun! Dad will take us to the lake and he chases all the ducks around!”

You gasp. “Your dad chases ducks?!”

“No, silly.” Cassey laughs and rolls around on her stomach. “Pooch does!”

“Ohh, right.” You start to walk up towards the house and the mailbox catches your eye. Doing a good deed for the day, you empty it and take the stack with you. “Well, we have to get back. It was nice meeting you, Cassey. Have a fun day!”

“Bye!” Cassey kisses Pooch on the head one more time before getting her bicycle. The dog runs after you and almost crashes into the door. You can’t help but giggle a little to yourself and he plops down in the middle of the kitchen, panting and drooling. 

Sitting on the couch, you freeze in place and listen as John gets up and uses the bathroom upstairs. You hope you didn’t wake him. You toss the mail on the coffee table and boot up your old laptop so you can make the next schedule for work. Technically, you could wait until you go in tomorrow but at least you’ll have a head start. A few hours must pass and you’re so involved with numbers and spreadsheets, you don’t even notice John is walking down the stairs, barefoot and still in his pajamas. 

“Morning.” He mumbles and gingerly lays on the couch, his feet nudging your thigh.

“It’s like…” You look at your watch. “Shit, it’s already three! You must be starving. I can’t believe you slept that long.”

There’s a low rumbling sound and you realize it’s your own stomach growling. Instead of laughing, John quickly gets his phone out and orders food. 

“Pizza will be here in thirty.” He tells you, shifting so he can see you better, his arm draped along the back of the couch. He rubs at his eyes and wakes himself up, then runs his hand through his hair. 

Thankfully, you get distracted by your computer again until he pokes you with his toe. It makes you smile, but you still don’t pay him much attention. “What’s up? Do you feel better?”

“Yes, I feel a lot better.”

“Good, ‘we heal in our sleep’ is what my grandma always told me.” You pat his foot, then see a mistake you made on Sam’s schedule and move to fix it. 

“What’re you working on?” 

You close the computer and finally look towards him. “Just a schedule for work.”

“What’s that?”

“My laptop.”

“What century was it made in?”

You push his foot away. “Very funny.”

He’s watching you again, with a small amused smile, like he’s making some kind of list in his head. “What else did you do today?”

“Oh! I met Cassey and she played with Pooch for a little while. I got your mail.” You point to the stack on the table. “And then I guess I got caught up in work.”

John looks at the envelopes and stretches his neck to see Pooch laying on the kitchen floor. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” You grin and put the computer on the table, settling in by John’s legs and leaning your elbow across his shins. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Tomorrow you go for a check up and they’ll take that bandage off.”

“No more sponge baths?” 

“I don’t know,” You tease lightly. “Never say never.”

Shock makes his mouth hang open. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean what if you get shot again? Or get stabbed?” You tsk at him, but still smiling. “You really need to work on being a better assassin.”

John moves to sit up, and you think he’s mad but he clears his throat and gives you a stare, his hair falling in his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I’m excellent.”  
  


“Mmhm.” You touch his shirt with your fingers, knowing exactly where the scars are on his skin. “Says who?”

“All the dead people I’ve killed.” 

That makes you scrunch your nose in distaste and he just smiles, leaning over to take the mail in his lap.

“What was the hardest job you’ve ever had?”

John stops looking through the pile of envelopes and raises an eyebrow. 

“What? I’m curious.”

“The sight of blood will make you puke, but you want to hear about that?”

“That bad?”

“Let’s just say I’d rather ease you into one of those stories. Ask me something else.”

“Hmm.” You put your feet up on the coffee table and think. “Do you mainly use a gun or a knife?”

He laughs. “You are in a curious mood.”

“It’s more interesting than doing schedules.” Your foot nudges your computer and John takes the stack of mail again, and nonchalantly answers your question.

“Yeah, mostly guns and knives. Anything I guess… a book, a pencil, a car… mostly my bare hands.”

He says it all like it’s nothing, like he’s telling you a grocery list. You stare at his hands as he rips open paper. Wow. That’s oddly hot and gross at the same time. He’s not paying attention so you closely watch his long fingers and wide palms, and you imagine them handling a gun… then handling you. John suddenly leans back and sighs loudly, a large card in his lap.

It snaps you back into reality. “What’s that? It looks like a wedding invitation.”

He nods and tells you it is. “My friend, Marcus… he’s getting married.”

“Is he an assassin friend?”

John seems to be stuck in his own head and he’s just staring at the swirly gold print.“Yeah, he’s mostly a sniper though.”

“Interesting. Have you met his fiance?”

“No… we don’t usually get involved in each other's lives too much.”

“Why?” You grab the pretty card and glance at it.

“It just…” John looks at you with sad eyes. “Complicates things.”

“Well, I think it’s nice he invited you. You should go.”

“By myself? I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

He takes the card back from you and throws it on the coffee table. “Just not my thing.”

The door buzzes with the pizza and John tells you it’s all paid for. It smells amazing and you set it on the kitchen counter, then grab some cans of soda from the fridge. You’d love to finish the wine from yesterday, but not while John is on pain pills. Pooch stirs and finally gets up, probably hungry too so you grab his bowl and fill it while John slowly gets himself to a seat. 

He finally has an appetite since his surgery and eats half by himself. You’re hungry too, so you don’t talk too much, but you can see his mood is improving by his small, shy smiles. You realize he must’ve been hungry all day and that’s why he was grumpy. You should have known. 

“What? You’re looking at me funny.”

“Nothing,” But you can’t help to smirk, figuring John out is fun. “Hey, how about I go with you?”

“Go where?”

“To the wedding. I can be your plus one.” You instantly regret the words and cringe at your own stupidity. “Uh, I mean… if you don’t already have someone to go--”

“I don’t!” John interrupts before you can take inviting yourself back. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“Really? Are you sure?” The plates need to be cleared and you get up, gathering napkins and dishes. You have a better understanding of where everything is in the kitchen now. “I mean, I don’t know if you want me meeting your friends…”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You look down at your jeans with grass stains and wrinkled tank top. Your hair is in a messy bun. You feel very plain. “I just don’t think I’d fit in.”

John is confused. “Because you’re not an assassin?”

Ugh. How can guys be so dense sometimes. “No… look, remember how out of your league I am? I just don’t want your friends to think you’re with some loser or make fun of you or something. But I guess if they know we’re just friends it wouldn’t matter. Obviously we would never be together, they would know that… right?” By the time you’re done your cheeks are on fire.

John doesn’t say anything and grabs a cookie from the plate you left on the counter. You go to the fridge and get the milk you bought and one glass, setting it in front of him. You break a cookie in half and dunk it in the cup, and John does the same. When he speaks, it comes out quietly. “I’m disappointed.”

It’s like a punch in the gut. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish I could be fancier… like when you wear your suits, I just don’t--”

“No… no.” He stops and leans on the counter, not meeting your eyes at first. “I’m not disappointed in you. I don’t think I ever could be.” His eyes lift, gaze intense. “I’m disappointed in myself.”

Now you’re confused. “Why would you be?” 

“Because all this time I thought I was doing a good job of showing you how special I think you are.”

“Oh…”

His hair falls in his eyes and his long fingers push it back. “I guess I need to do a better job.”

“No.” You try for a smile, but it’s a weak attempt. For a distraction you start to clean up the counter. “That’s not the way it works. I have to know that on my own. I shouldn’t have to have a man tell me I’m special for me to believe it.” You stop cleaning to rub at your forehead. All this growth can be so frustrating. “My thinking is so damaged.”

“You’re not damaged.” John says. “I just wish you could see what I see.”

You ignore his comment. “Maybe you should bring a date to the wedding. Like, a lady who would actually look good with you.” Who wouldn’t be embarrassing, or plain, or work at the gas station. 

He gives you a very disapproving look. 

“John, I’m sure you know a ton of attractive women who would die to go out with you. It shouldn’t be that hard to find someone.”

He sighs and gets up to let Pooch out. “The only woman I’m interested in going to that wedding with is standing in my kitchen. So, you’re right. It shouldn't be that hard.” 

You bite at your lip, torn of what to do. Maybe you’ll ask your therapist for her advice at your next appointment. So, you’ll tell him that. Kind of. “How about I think about it, okay? I promise that I will.”

John smiles, and you think he knows what a big step it would be if you were to go with him. He lets Pooch back in and locks the door. 

It’s early, but both of you are tired. John needs all the rest he can get and your adrenaline is finally fading. You turn out all the lights and he reaches for your hand, but you hold on to his elbow instead. “Bed?”

“Bed.” He leads you up the stairs slowly and gets washed up. You take your makeup bag and go to the guest room to do the same. The tub is the size of your entire apartment and you’re bitter that no one is enjoying this immaculate room. 

The both of you meet in bed, but this time you keep your distance a little. You can tell he washed his chest because his skin is damp. He exhales loudly as he relaxes and you grab the remote control.

“So fancy…” You murmur when he shows you which button to press and the cabinet doors slide open.

“Functional.” John corrects you. He scoots down to put his head on his pillow and somehow he’s magically closer to you. It’s a slick move. He spreads his legs under the blankets and his foot lightly touches your shin. When you don’t shy away and pretend to focus on the TV, John moves his foot slowly down your leg and wiggles his toes against yours. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asks.

“Very. Are you?”

“You’re so far away.”

Laughing, you turn towards him. “I’m literally right here.”

He blinks slowly, watching you. 

“What?”

“I like having you in my bed.”

You play dumb. “I know, right? It’s so comfortable. I feel bad making you sleep in mine.”

“Wasn’t bad at all.”

“Yeah?” You lean up to turn the light off and now it’s a lot darker, with just the glare from the screen flooding the room. “You could move in with me, ya know? I’ll show you how the simple people live.” You’re teasing but the shock on his face is priceless. “What’s that look for? You can’t imagine being without your extravagant bathtub?”

“No, I’m just wondering if your apartment allows dogs.”

You’re completely dumbfounded and you try to punch his shoulder, but those reflexes get you again and suddenly you're pulled in the crook of his neck, his arm draped over you again like the night before. You lay your head on his shoulder and it’s so comfortable, you briefly forget this isn’t what should be happening, but then you can’t bring yourself to care enough and move. 

“Cuddling with a patient is very unprofessional of a nurse.” 

John squeezes you hard. “It’s a good thing you’re not a nurse.”

You smile, closing your eyes and you should be sad that this is definitely the last sleepover. But you just have a feeling it won’t be. 

**

“So… then after that we woke up and I took him to his doctor appointment, even though he probably could have gone himself, and then he took me out to breakfast. And then I went home and took a nap before work.”

Beth, your therapist, is smiling at you. “Wow, that’s quite a few days you had.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What would you say is the part that sticks out the most?”

You think for a minute and shift the pillow behind your back. The office is hotter today and she has a fan blowing in the corner, plus the window open. She’s sitting across from you and in the short time you’ve known her, it’s hard to believe how she can already read you and how gentle she directs you into different ways of thinking, silently challenging and almost making you wonder if you’re coming up with your own ideas. This is the first time you haven’t cried at a session, but it’s only half way over so there’s still plenty of time. 

“I don’t know. Maybe that I was able to get John up and to the hospital pretty calmly. I mean, I was nervous but I still did it.”

She nods. “Exactly right. If you were put in the same situation, maybe a few months ago… how would you have handled it?”

“Hmm... well, I doubt I’d be somewhere like John’s house but if I were at work or something? I probably would have froze and let someone else take over.”

“Do you think a part of yourself is starting to have trust in your capabilities?”

The thought makes you feel the prick of tears at your eyes. You haven’t trusted yourself in a long time. Every choice, every thought was essentially wrong and you would turn to grandma. Her word became your world, whether you knew it or not. She made all the decisions and you were fine having her do it for the both of you. It was just easier and then it became a habit to let her lead your life. You were too young to know you were even letting it happen, and at the time it was what you needed, but now you have to learn how to live on your own.

“I still second guess myself all the time. And that can be exhausting… but I’m trying.”

“What if you didn’t second guess yourself? What if you allowed yourself to make mistakes along the way?”

“What if I make a mistake and lose John?”

“Okay, well what if you _don’t_ make a mistake and lose John anyway? What if something happens and it doesn’t work out, by no mistake of your own. It just wasn’t a good match. What would that mean?”

You look out the window and frown. “It would mean that I’d still be okay. By myself. I can take care of myself.” You would really miss him though, and just the thought breaks your heart. The ache is exactly why you’ve been keeping your distance. The fear of rejection is much easier to deal with than a shattered heart. Right now, it’s the fear of losing his friendship that is overwhelming. “But… he’s the only friend I have. What if… what if my appendix burst or something, and he wasn’t around anymore. I don’t know what I would do.” 

Beth smiles and her voice is soft. “Let’s say that happens. What would you do?”

“I don’t know who I would call. I don’t have any other friends.”

“You don’t think Carla or Sam would help you?”

“Maybe, but I’d hate to bother them.”

She tilts her head, confused. “Why do you think they would be bothered by you asking for help?”

It makes you think about what John had asked you the other night. If you would have helped him and you didn’t hesitate. If Carla or Sam needed you, you’d be there for them too. Maybe you’re not such a burden. Grandma often didn’t let you ask for anything. She would figure it out for you or you’d go without. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It’s something we can work on. But, I think they would both be very kind to you if you did need their help. And remember, you can always call 911 if it’s an emergency.”

You look down at your hands sheepishly. “Right, of course.”

“Good.” She says, pushing up her glasses and sipping her coffee. “Now can we talk about the wedding?”

“Okay.”

“I want you to close your eyes and envision you and John at the wedding.”

The thought makes you smile. 

“And now think of the worst possible thing that could happen.”

Your smile instantly fades. 

“What happened?”

“John and I were dancing and I tripped and fell into the cake.” You feel silly, but Beth is nodding to validate it.

“Okay, good. Let’s talk about it. Do you think if you had a plan in place for that not to happen, that you would consider going?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

“Well, let’s try it. Let's say you do fall and trip into the cake. What would happen?”

“Everyone would laugh. I would embarrass John. I would ruin someone’s wedding day.”

“Those are possibilities. What made you trip in the first place?”

You close your eyes and think about the image of shoes in your head. “My heel got caught on something.”

“And what’s something that would prevent that from happening?” 

“Um… I could wear flat shoes? Something I’m more comfortable in.”

“Yes! Perfect! What else?”

“Hmm... I’m not sure.”

She nods, encouraging as always. “That’s okay. Soon this type of thinking will become easier. What if you saw where the cake table was set up and you danced on the other side of the room?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Keep your eyes closed. I want you to put yourself in John’s place, or maybe even the bride and the groom. And they just saw one of their guests' trip. What do you think they would do?”

“Probably want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Are they laughing? Are they mad?”

“No.” You open your eyes and breathe. “Do you think I should go?”

“I think you should give yourself permission to go, if you want. It might feel like it’s too soon for something so out of your element, but that’s entirely up for you to decide.”

You look at the clock and it’s time to leave already. You have a lot to think about, but in a very different way that you’re used to.

**

Sam just left to go home and change for this pool party he’s been talking nonstop about for days. You already miss his excited chatter and now it’s quiet in the store. You’re mopping up the floor after someone dropped a bottle of juice and the toilet was clogged when you got here, but thankfully that’s been fixed. It’s going to be a really long day. 

There’s a pile of applications you need to read through, and you’ve been dreading the task for a week now, but Carla really wants you to hire more help. The stack is huge and daunting, but you sit behind the counter and get ready to tackle it just as the door jingles. 

You don’t look up and assume the customer will come to you when they’re ready. A cup of coffee, your favorite kind, is set right in front of you and now you can see John’s tall figure as he approaches.

The coffee smells amazing and you can’t hold back a smile. “What’s this for?”

“Nothing.” He replies easily. “Just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

You’ve never had this before. Never had a friend who would ask how your day was and after you tell him about the toilet, the juice, and the applications he would suddenly stop by so effortlessly. It really means a lot to you. You’re beaming and John has to tear his eyes away, otherwise you feel like he’d stare at you forever. 

“Well hey, thank you.” You come around the counter and tug at his shirt for him to come closer. “Can I give you a sticky hug?”

He laughs and bends down to fit in your arms. When you’re about to pull away, he grabs you closer and smells your neck, his nose sensually running down your throat. You flush and squeeze his arms as you move away from his touch. 

“Was it orange juice?”

“What?”

“You smell like orange juice.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah it was.” You smell your own hair and it does smell like citrus. Perfect. “Well, how are you feeling? You were supposed to see the doctor today, right?”

“Yes, apparently I’m a fast healer. I told him I had a very good nurse taking excellent care of me.”

You roll your eyes and take the coffee, taking a big drink. “I hope you didn’t say that. You sound like a pervert.”

John laughs and takes the coffee from you, taking a small sip for himself and then handing it back. “That was a very G-rated few nights and I’m a pervert?”

“I guess I am the one who did flash you.” You pull back your coffee when John reaches for it again. “God, _I was_ the pervert all this time!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He frowns when you protect your coffee and gets distracted by the memory, looking briefly at your chest before he catches himself and looks away. 

You smile when you see pink on his cheeks. “What’re you up to tonight?”

He leans on the counter and pretends to look at all the lottery tickets. “I have to get ready for that job soon.”

“John…” You’re troubled and worried. “You can’t take that job. You just had surgery.”

He shrugs. “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

“But you’ll get hurt, you’ll pull your stitches out and lord knows what else.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true.” He doesn’t seem upset at all. 

“Well… can’t you postpone it? Or tell them to get someone else?”

John has a small smile when he finally meets your eyes. “I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but that’s not how it works. It’s just for one night and I’ll be back… and you can take care of me again.” He tries to joke but you’re not laughing. He reaches to rub your arm up and down. “C’mon, it really will be fine, okay?”

“No. Not okay.” You are not happy. Those stitches are still fresh and you can’t imagine the pain he’ll be in, not after what you saw the night he had to go to the hospital. 

He sighs and he’s still rubbing your elbow with his thumb. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

You shrug and sulk, crossing your arms over your chest. “I hate seeing you get hurt.”

“It’s my job, remember?”

You inwardly cringe at that because the last thing you want to do is make him feel even worse about his job. The least you could do is be a supportive friend… about killing people. It’s still strange to think about. “Yeah, okay.” You admit defeat. “I just wish there was a way I could help. Or be there or something.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

You raise your eyebrow. “To San Francisco?” 

“No, the target moved. He’s actually in the city now. I’ll be at a hotel while I do business. You could stay there if you want and see that I’m okay when I come back. You’d be perfectly safe.”

You grab the schedule and remember that Sam wanted another shift, so you took an extra day off. It's scary, but you want to say yes. “Are you sure I won’t be distracting you or anything?”

John tucks his black hair behind his ear and shoots you an unbelievable grin. “I don’t mind your distractions.”

You’re highly suspicious that he’d get sick of your distractions sooner or later. “Can I be your assassin secretary?”

“No.”

“Can I order room service?”

“Yes, that you can do as many times as you like.”

“Alright fine, I guess I’ll go.” You act bored of it but you’re really nervous and have no idea what to expect. John tells you that he’ll pick you up at your apartment in a few days and bring clothes or whatever else you want. 

You follow him out the door and thank him again for the coffee. “I still can’t figure out how you know this is my favorite.”

“You were drinking it at the laundromat that one time.” John explains. “It was the first time I saw you with an ounce of happiness. So I went to the place and asked what you ordered.” 

Your mouth falls open. “You did that?”

He gets his keys out and turns to look at you. “Yeah.”

“But you would do that for anyone? Not just me?”

John doesn’t say anything, but smirks as he walks away, leaving you to watch as he goes. You wave to him when he drives away and try not to overthink everything that just happened. 

TBC

<https://nicb0723.tumblr.com/>


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet John in an unconventional way.

**

The Continental is the most lavish hotel you’ve ever seen. You’re not even sure it’s a hotel, it might just be a resort if there was a beach outside instead of the city. It’s like you’re on a different planet.

John parks right in front and collects his bag from the trunk while the valet comes around. You feel particularly modest with your small duffel bag and glad that you decided not to bring your backpack like some teenager. At least you’re wearing some of your new clothes, but you still feel out of place. John looks sexy in his slacks and a black button up shirt. He walks with a confidence that you envy and you’re not the only one who can’t keep your eyes off of him.

The massive doors are opened by a hotel employee, and he nods to John as you both walk inside. All you can see is a polished marble floor down a long hallway with high ceilings and gorgeous chandeliers. It’s breathtaking. 

“Hey, I should probably tell you something.” John steers you into a corner and puts his back towards the lobby, so you’re hidden from the room. 

“What? Right now?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just…” He’s crowding your space, towering over you and leaning in close to whisper. “I sorta have a reputation. People will know me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, not knowing what he expects you to do with this information. “Okay?”

“And with you being here… you’ll now be associated with me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” 

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “No… I don’t think so.”

You’re still unsure and then a thought dawns on you, making your hands sweat and suddenly you’re extremely hot. “Oh, you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

John’s concerned eyes instantly turn to confusion. “What? God, no, not at all. I just meant people might ask you questions. I don’t know how you feel about that.”

“Ah, I think I’ll be okay.” You reassure him and smile. “I’ll just tell them I’m your assassin secretary.”

He chuckles and gives you one last look, studying your eyes before he walks towards the check in counter. You hang back and look more into the lobby, careful to avoid any eye contact that you can feel from everyone. It’s not really any effort though, you’ve gone most of your life looking down at the floor. 

You feel a strong hand on your back and John asks if you’re ready to go upstairs. He does know a lot of people and he gives a nod to practically everyone you pass in the hallway. You sigh some relief in the elevator once you’re both out of sight and give John a small smile. 

“A reputation, huh?”

“Stop.”

“What kind of reputation?”

The elevator dings on the fourth floor and he motions for you to go first. “A scary one.” He tells you on the way to the room and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

“Is that what they call you? Scary John Wick?”

“Not exactly.” The door opens and it’s a suite with a living room and kitchenette, and two beds. Well, this is new. John takes the one closest to the door and you put your bag on the other bed. “I hope this is okay, I didn’t know if you would want your own room or not. I probably should have just asked you.”

“This is great, are you kidding? It’s like a vacation!” You’re thrilled because you can’t even remember the last time you were in a hotel. You just wish the reason for being here were different.

John grins, but shakes his head. He starts to unzip his big leather bag and hangs up a dark suit in the closet. “This is hardly a vacation. But the wedding next month is in the Hamptons, which might be nice. Have you thought about going?”

“Yeah, I thought about it.” You stretch out on the bed and it’s like heaven. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, why not? It could be fun.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” John laughs and tosses a pillow onto your stomach. 

You lift your head and lean your hand on your chin. “Honestly? I will be nervous, but it’s a good kind of nervous. It’s good for me to do things out of my comfort zone.”

He sits on his bed and tilts his head thoughtfully. “Is that what your therapist said?”

“No.” You throw the pillow back to him. “Well, maybe. In a roundabout way. She somehow makes me think doing these things are my own idea.”

“She sounds good. I’m glad you have someone to talk to.” 

“Me too. It’s nice to know I’m not completely crazy.” You pick at a thread on the bottom of your knit sweater absentmindedly as you talk. “Or at least I’m the way I am because of how I grew up. And that there's hope to change.”

John sits forward and leans his elbows on his knees. “You know that you can talk to me too?”

“I might be realizing that.” You want to tell him that _he_ can talk to _you_ too, but you also don’t think it will matter to him. He’ll talk when he’s ready and not a minute before. Plus, you don’t think he has the same trust issues as you do. He definitely has a wall up, but you think it’s for different reasons. You’re both two kinds of crazy. 

He smiles and stands. “I hope so. I have to go see some people about work, and then I’ll have to get ready and leave soon.”

“Okay.” _Shut up, don’t ask him a million questions._

“There’s a card key for you on the desk. Will you be okay here? Order some room service if you want or you can go down to the restaurant. I think there’s a hot tub and pool, but I’m not sure.”

You can’t help but be disappointed. “John, do you know how good a hot tub would feel on your sore muscles?”

He winks at you playfully. “You obviously didn’t see the tub in the bathroom.”

Instantly you’re off the bed and squeal when you see the bathtub with jets. “Best hotel ever!”

You hear John laugh as he closes the door. 

**

A few hours later it’s getting dark and John finally comes back with another duffle bag, except this one is longer. There’s really only one thing that could go in a bag like that. 

You turn off the TV and sit up on your bed with your legs crossed under you. The towel on top of your head and the fluffy bathrobe must make for a sight, but John just nods in your general direction and doesn’t say anything. You decided when you were soaking that you’re just going to observe tonight and not ask any questions. You really don’t want to distract him and even though the curiosity is getting to you, you keep yourself composed. 

He’s very efficient with getting all his equipment neatly placed on the bed in an order that only he must know. John keeps quiet and it’s like he’s doing math equations in his head, he’s so laser focused. Maybe he’s counting bullets or thinking about where he has to go? You have no idea. You just watch. 

When he steps in the bathroom for a shower you peek at all the guns laid out and you wonder what each of them does and why he needs so many different kinds. There’s also plenty of clips and a few knives too, two holsters that look worn but the leather still shines. The shower turns off and you haul ass back to your bed and look normal. 

Stunning, is the only word that comes to your mind when he comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is slicked back and you love that you can see his face, stern and powerful. His beard is shaped and trimmed. You see the appendix scar on his stomach and it’s really not that long, but still very fresh. He quickly pushes a pair of boxers under the towel and drops it to the floor. It’s like you’re not even there and he’s in his own world. You stay completely still to not spoil his train of thought. 

Pants are next, then a thin undershirt, a bulletproof vest, a white button up shirt, a sleek tie, his leather belt, his gun holster around his waist and then the one around his arms, followed by the guns and clips. He puts the knife in his pocket and gets something from his bag. Cufflinks. That’s interesting. The last thing he puts on is his suit jacket. 

It was as if you just watched exotic porn and you wish you could save the last few minutes in your brain forever. 

He looks at you, and suddenly remembers that you’re there. “Hey, I’ll be back soon.” 

You nod and take the towel off your head, letting your wet hair down around your shoulders. It’s like he’s really seeing you for the first time again and he smiles once he notices you’re in a bathrobe. He’s preoccupied though and the smile disappears, but he walks towards you like he’s on autopilot and bends down to kiss your forehead, and then your cheek. 

“Thank you for being here.”

There’s no where you’d rather be.

**

The later it gets the more nervous you feel. What if he doesn’t come back at all? What if he comes back and he’s so hurt you can’t help him? What if he comes back and he doesn’t talk to you? What do you say? What do you do?

You think about all the times he’s had to do this though, without someone to come back to. How he would walk into an empty room and have to process whatever he just went through completely by himself. You think about the kiss on the forehead before he left and how it seemed foreign to him, like having you in the room was something so different than anything he's ever had before. You think about the kiss on the cheek and his words, and how just in those small actions showed how much he appreciates that you’re waiting for him. You’ve seen him be vulnerable before, but never like this. 

The TV is on low and you’re trying to entertain yourself until he gets back. You’re trying not to think too much because the questions in your mind won’t stop. You can’t just google _how to take care of an assassin._

The door opens and you feel your heartbeat flutter. You sit up in bed and hold your breath. Suddenly you feel a chill down your spine, the pajama bottoms and thin shirt you’re wearing suddenly not warm enough. 

_Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out._

The lights are low and you click off the TV for silence, leaving only the bedside lamp turned on. He finally enters the room, walking slowly and the first thing you see is bright red all over his clothes. 

Blood. 

Lots of blood. 

He’s in a trance when you get to him and he’s looking over your shoulder as you push his hair out of his face. Your eyes scan his skin. There’s a gash over the bridge of his nose and small cuts along his temple. His hair is matted, but it’s just dirt and sweat.

You start to take off his tie as gently as you can, but you cannot believe the amount of blood soaked through his white shirt. 

“It’s not mine.” 

His voice is deep and it startles you. He’s looking at you now and he’s back with it, you can just tell. 

“What’s not yours?” You’re trying to make your fingers not shake as the tie finally comes loose. 

“The blood. It’s not mine.”

Relief floods your body and you take a breath you’d been holding. “Oh, well. That’s good. Let’s still get you out of this, huh?”

“Okay.”

You smile at him agreeing with you so easily. “Okay.” 

No big deal. He lets you slide the suit jacket off over his arms, but you need his help getting the holsters off of him. They land on the bed and you notice they’re a lot lighter than when he left. He must have used all the bullets and lost the guns because the very full belt is now empty. The shirt is very sticky and disgusting, and you swallow thickly. _Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up._

“Are you going to puke?” He’s watching you with interest and seems genuinely concerned with a hint of teasing. 

“Nope, I’m totally fine with this. No problem.” You close your eyes. Does blood smell? You feel like it smells. You’re queasy and sweating. Maybe you’re smelling your own sweat. The blood is such a bright red. From some person. A dead person. Or maybe it’s blood from multiple people. 

You feel strong hands on your arms steer you to sit on the bed as you start to sway. 

“I think I got this.” He tells you and starts to undress himself. 

You feel like a fool. “I’m sorry. I’m useless.”

John smiles as he takes off the shirt. He grabs a garbage bag and puts it in. “Why’d you get near it?”

“I wanted to help.” 

He stops taking off the bulletproof vest, which has about 5 holes in it, to look at you. “You are helping, you know that?”

You peer up at him and sit back on the bed. “I am?”

“Of course. It’s usually very lonely after business is done.”

“Oh. I didn’t think you noticed that I was even here before, not that I blame you.” You watch as he starts to take the vest off again and throw that in the bag too. “You just seemed so focused before you left.”

“I was focused. That doesn’t mean I forgot you were here. The opposite, actually.” He kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his belt, but leaves it on. He does take off his t-shirt though and struggles out of it slowly, obviously hurting. You see the bruises forming all over his chest, where the bullet holes were in the vest. “I kept thinking about you. It was nice. It kept me going.”

You don’t quite know what to say. “As opposed to stopping?”

He shrugs. “I got done a lot faster. I’m going to take a shower.”

“John?”

“Yeah?”

You want to give him a hug, but you feel frozen in place. “Wouldn't you rather soak awhile?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m too tired.”

“Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat? To drink?”

He stops to think and says, “There should be some bourbon in the fridge.”

“Sure, of course.” 

He says thank you and closes the door to the bathroom behind him. You can hear the water start and finally you can move. What an intense experience. You wonder what he did and who he did it to, where he went and what happened to all of those guns. Are you allowed to ask? 

You think about it while you get a glass and put some ice in it, and then pour a finger’s worth of bourbon. You set it on the table beside his bed and get into your own, pulling the sheets up to your chin and wait. 

The door opens a few minutes later and you close your eyes to give him an illusion of privacy. You’re not sure if he puts on any clothes, but you assume that he does. You hear the bed creak under his weight and he settles. He must grab his drink because the ice clinks against the glass. You only open your eyes once he lets out a soft sigh.

“Are you okay?”

He’s leaning back on the headboard and takes another sip. “Starting to feel better.”

“How’s your appendix scar?”

“Just sore. Doesn’t feel like anything ripped open though.”

“How can you tell?”

He pauses and sets down his drink. “Let’s just say I know where to put sharp objects to make them hurt the most. And I also know what it feels like.”

You hope that John doesn’t see your nose crinkle. _Ouch_. “Like where?”

John chuckles and shifts to look at you in your bed. “You want an anatomy lesson?”

“Are you a doctor too?”

“Just an assassin.”

You smile, sitting up a little. “Okay, Mr. Wick. I’ll take a lesson.”

He pats the bed. “Come over here.”

It sounds like a move to get you into his bed. “Why?”

“You want to be my secretary or not?”

Sighing loudly, you fling the covers off and crawl over his legs to lay down. “Okay, teach me oh wise assassin.”

He sits up more but scoots a little closer. “Let’s say you’re being attacked, but you have a knife--”

“I’d probably cut myself.”

His eyes meet yours and he has a small smile. “I know, but that’s a lesson for another time.”

“Okay.” You look back to the ceiling. He’s a lot closer than you thought and you can see he’s wearing a soft t-shirt. His hair is slicked back from the shower and the cut on his nose isn’t as bad as you thought now that most of the blood has been washed away. 

“So if you get a chance…” John gently moves your hair away, then his thumb rubs at your temple. “Right here would be good or here.” His finger touches under your eye. 

“Gross. The eyeball?”

“Yep. Or here.” His hand moves to your throat, right at your pulse point. Fingers move to the back of your neck and he presses at the top of your spine. “This is a hard place to get to, but effective.”

“Mmhmm.” You let your eyes close shut. You haven’t been touched by someone else in a long time and it feels so good. You might as well enjoy it. Until he pokes you in the armpit and you let out a squeak. “What the--”

He chuckles and scoots even closer. “There’s actually a large artery in the armpit. Hardly anyone knows about it.”

“Have you ever stabbed anyone in the armpit?”

“Well yeah, I usually just twist their arm until it breaks and then that’s when I’ll do it.”

You gulp. “Right.”

“Anyway, these are obvious but the heart and the lungs.” His fingertips trace down the middle of your chest and you feel goosebumps form on your arms. “The aorta.”

“The aorta.” You repeat softly and let your eyes close again. 

“Yeah.” His voice is rough now and you wonder what he’s thinking. If he’s excited to be touching you like this. “Then there’s the liver.” You feel his palm on the right side of your stomach. Your shirt lifts up from the movement and he pulls it back down for you. “The next one is in the crotch.”

Your eyes fly open and he laughs, his hand sliding down your hip. “It’s called the femoral artery and lethal if you get it right.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Luckily, I wouldn’t know.”

You side eye him. “Yes, luckily.”

“The last one…” He’s leaning over you now and shifting down the bed. “Is behind the knee.”

“Really?”

It tickles and you squirm away, but John quickly moves and grabs at your thigh to keep you close. “That one’s called the popliteal artery. Also difficult but if you’re on the floor, manageable.”

“If I’m on the floor?”

“It happens.”

You stifle a yawn and it’s late, but John doesn’t seem tired. You roll to your side facing him and tuck a pillow under your head. “Well that was a very interesting lesson, Mr. Wick. I feel very informed of all the places to stab a bad guy.”

He takes his hand away and gets comfortable. “Good. There will be a pop quiz tomorrow.”

You grin and bite your lip. “Do I get to use your body as my model?”

“Whatever it takes for you to learn the material.” He finally yawns too and his eyes are growing heavy. You reach over him and turn off the light. He catches your arm when you pull back and it’s as if he knew you were going to get up and get in your own bed. “Stay?”

You don’t say anything and push at the covers so you can lay down. His hand is around your wrist, holding your arm across his stomach.

“Do the bruises hurt?” You smooth your hand over his chest.

“Not enough to have you stop.”

Smiling to yourself in the dark, you can’t help it. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“You’re such a tease.”

You laugh softly and close your eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” 

He doesn’t let go of your hand.

**

  
  


The next morning you wake up to a text alert from your phone across the room. John is dead to the world and he has you trapped between his body and heavy arm. You can’t get up without waking him, but it’s time for the day to start anyway. 

The text is from Carla that there’s someone sick and she’s wondering if you can work the afternoon shift. 

You text her back that you can and you’ll see her later. 

“Just five more minutes,” John mumbles and turns on his stomach. 

You toss your cell phone to the side of the bed and kneel back on the mattress, turning your attention to John’s back. You slowly lift his t-shirt up and he eventually shifts his weight to help. _Damn._ The bruises are ugly and you can see more down his arms and on his shoulders. It looks incredibly painful, but you suppose it’s better than being covered in his own blood. 

You wish you had some lotion or something. What helps bruises heal? Ice helped the bruise on your foot, but there might be something else. You grab your phone again and google it. Ice, heat and arnica. Well, there’s plenty of ice in the room, that won’t be a problem. 

The mattress is so nice that John doesn’t even stir when you get up. There’re clean towels left and you grab one from the bathroom, filling it with ice and crawl back in bed. You stop and look closely at his tattoos. The wolf and the flames are dotted with bruises, but the hands holding the cross is oddly untouched. 

There are old scars all over, however, and your brow furrows with sympathy, especially when your eyes track over the cross shaped brand in the middle of his back. The sight makes you swallow thickly, you had avoided looking at it before. But now here it is, right in front of you and thoughts jumble in your mind of what it might mean. It’s too much to process and you put the towel on the deepest of a dark red color, waiting for John to wake up.

“What’re you doing?” It comes out muffled, his face pushed against the pillow. 

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Wick. I’m healing your bruises.”

“I’ve never had someone heal my bruises before.”

“Does it feel good?”

He turns over to his side and looks at you sleepily. You fix his unruly bedhead hair and tuck it behind his ears for him. “ _That_ feels good.” 

You set the towel on his collarbone, which is currently blue and green. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really. Are you?”

Nodding, you raise his arm to lay over his head. There’s another bruise on the inside of his bicep. You delicately trail your fingers over it. That makes nine bruises total. “Yeah, I’m going to order some oatmeal and fruit.”

“And coffee?”

“Yes, and coffee. And then I’m afraid we have to go. I have to go into work today.”

“Was that the text you got?”

“Yep.” You get up and dial room service, then place your order for a bowl of oatmeal knowing John will surely eat at least half. There’s a pamphlet on the table with all the hotel services and you take it back to the bed. John has his hands behind his head now, just watching you. “Ohh. You should go to the spa and get a massage.” You tell him, flipping through the pages. “I’ve never had one but I bet it’s amazing. Oh! A facial and a pedicure! Wow. And you can get champaign… so fancy. You should totally spoil yourself.”

“Why would I do all that when I have you to put ice on me?”

“John.” You fold the little plastic book and tap his stomach with it. “I don’t think ice in a towel is the same as a massage.”

He takes it from you and opens it up, squinting at the words. 

“Do you need glasses or something? Readers?” You hide your smile, but his shocked glare makes you laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I like the grey. It’s very distinguished.” You rub at his beard and smile wider when he gets more annoyed.

“Distinguished?” His hand moves to your ribs and his fingers dig in, starting to tickle you.

“And handsome!” You shriek, laughing and squirm away before he gets under your armpit.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

You try to pull his hand away, but he’s too strong. “Handsome! I said you’re very handsome.”

His fingers stop and you lay out on the bed panting, exhausted from laughing so hard. “John, I almost peed my pants.”

He shrugs. “Accidents happen, it’s okay.” He picks up the booklet again and points to a section. “You want me to get a massage? This is the only one I’ll get.”

You’re curious so you pull the book away from him and read Couple’s Massage. You roll your eyes and toss it back on the table. The doorbell rings and someone calls out room service from the other side. The coffee smells amazing and you roll the tray to John who is sitting up in bed, still looking tired. You feel bad for him so you quickly make his coffee the way you know he likes it and bring it to him. He smiles, a silent thank you, and you grab your oatmeal to eat in bed. 

John sips his coffee carefully and closes his eyes. “You should come with me to all my jobs.”

“Why’s that? I was freaked out all night.”

He opens one eye. “You didn’t enjoy the bathtub?”

“I did enjoy the bathtub, but I was thinking of you the entire time.”

He opens both eyes and his eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

You take a bite of kiwi and swallow wrong when you realize what you said. “Not like that. I just started to think about you having to work and it sucked. I wish you could have enjoyed the tub too… in a very platonic way.”

“Hmm.” He sips his coffee some more. “Well, having you here was a morale booster for me.”

“No one has ever stayed with you before?” You think about the tan line that was around his ring finger. You assumed that maybe his partner would have been with him. From the way he was acting before and after leaving, you couldn’t be sure.

“Never, unless you count the doctor stitching me up and then leaving when I’m about to pass out.”

You slowly shake your head. “I don’t count that at all.”

“That’s why this was nice. I don’t usually smile and laugh the morning after work.”

You offer John a spoonful of your oatmeal and he takes it. You don’t know why he always says he isn’t hungry when he usually is. “Well, just tell me when your next assassin assignment is and I’ll clear my calendar for you.”

John swallows quickly. “You would do that?”

“Yeah, of course. But just because the tub is so nice.” You tease and he smiles. 

“I could get you your own room next time. I know you like your space.”

You pause and look at him questionly. “And how do you know that?”

He shrugs and the towel falls off of his collarbone. You move it to the bruise on the side of his ribcage. “I can just tell.”

Well, he’s not wrong but still, you can’t imagine not being close to him on a night like last. “And how would I take care of you if I’m in a separate room?”

“Take care of me? You almost threw up all over me.”

Your mouth gapes open. “That’s not true! I would have been fine. I just needed to sit down for a minute.” Before you fainted.  
  
He’s just smirking and nodding. “Uh huh.”

“And this was the first time, I didn’t know what to expect.” You frown and look at him with big eyes. Did you really do a bad job? 

“Hey, I’m just joking. Come here.” He pulls on your arm and you move to sit next time, offering another bite of oatmeal. You feed him a few times before you put the bowl on the bedside table. “You’re the best nurse slash secretary I could ever ask for.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t know anyone else.”

He laughs. “I know a lot of people. I wouldn't want anyone else.”

“Alright fine.” You move to get up and leer at him, eyes tracking up and down his body. “I do know where to stab you, so you should be nice to me.”

“You’re very scary.” 

“Thank you, I know!” You laugh at your own joke and grab some clothes to change into for the day. “So, Mr. Wick, what do you usually do on a day after work? Rest?

“It depends on how I feel. And I have to replenish.” He tilts his chin towards the empty holster on the desk. 

You keep your voice light, not knowing if you should ask. “Did you lose the guns?” 

“Sorta. Had to use one of them to knock a guy out. I ran out of ammo.”

Curiosity is getting to you. “Knock a guy out?”

“Guns can hurt if they hit you in the face.”

You can almost imagine it. John throwing a gun as hard as he can at some guy’s head. “Well, that’s creative.” 

He slowly gets up and puts the towel full of ice on his shoulder. “Should we go soon?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I can catch a ride into town if you want to stay here?”

Shaking his head, John goes into the bathroom and grabs his clothes on the way. “No, it’s fine. I just need to get dressed and I’m ready.” He leaves the door open and you can see him struggling with his shirt. 

“Do you need help?”

He doesn’t say anything and just gives you the shirt instead. You slip it up his arms and over his shoulders, walking around him to button it. He’s staring down at you as your fingertips work across the fabric and buttons. When you’re done, you slide your palms up to his shoulders and before you lose the nerve, you push his hair out of his eyes. You comb his strands through your fingers and then tuck it behind his ears again. 

“There, now you look presentable. I wouldn’t want to damage that reputation.”

It’s very quiet and he’s just watching you, but you can’t bear the thought of making eye contact. Because if you did, you don’t know if you could hold back kissing him. Instead you take a step back and breathe deeply. If John is disappointed or relieved, you’ll never know.

**

You park next to Carla’s car and you’re glad she’s still here. Sam’s bicycle is also chained to the side of the building and the sight brightens your day.

John dropped you off a little over an hour ago at your apartment. He was fairly quiet on the ride home but it was comfortable. He kept sneaking glances over at you while you pretended not to notice.

“Hey! Thank you SO much!” Carla is working in the back office and she’s very happy to see you. You’re glad that you were able to help out.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, hoping no one is too sick.

“Yes, Sarah has cramps.” She tells you, lowering her voice. “Sam is here for a few hours and he’ll leave after you take your lunch. I really appreciate you coming in, I would have had to come back.”

“It’s no problem. Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a question. Not about work or anything.”

She points to the chair next to the desk. “Yeah, of course you can. What’s up?”

“Well, I know you’re in the city more than I am and remember I told you about that wedding I’m going to? I need a new dress and I have no idea where to get one.”

A pen taps at her lip as she thinks. “Hmm… there’s so many good places.”

“Yeah?” You had hoped that she’d be able to help you. You have no idea where to start. ”I figured you would know.” 

“Well, plus you need a purse, and shoes. Do you need to get a present?”

Crap. You hadn’t even thought about a present. You’ll have to ask John. “I don’t know about a present right now, but I might need to find something.”

“Okay, I know the perfect place. It’s a little boutique but they have lots of options. How about I go with you? You drive up on your day off and I can take a long lunch.”

Carla is in charge of four other gas stations in the city, overseeing all operations. “Really? You’d be willing to do that?”

“Oh yeah!” She tells you enthusiastically. “I’d love to go with you. I’ll text you the address of the station I’ll be at that day and we can go from there.”

“That’d be so nice. I think I’m off next Friday if that works?”

“It’s perfect. And I’ll take you to my favorite sandwich and coffee place for lunch. You’ll love it!”

All you can do is smile and nod as she’s talking. You can’t remember the last time you had a girlfriend to go shopping with. After a few minutes you excuse yourself and go give Sam a break. When he comes back he talks your ear off about a girl he likes and asks your advice about dating. You have no idea what to tell him, but try your best at answering his questions. 

You can’t help but smile when you give him a simple suggestion. “Just remember to open the car door for her. That’ll make her feel special.” 

**

_How are the bruises?_

_Fine._

You sigh at your phone. It’s been a few days since the hotel and while you haven’t seen John, he’s been texting every day to check in. He’s asked you out to an Italian restaurant that he wants to go to but you’ve been dodging an answer. You want to go, but you don’t want to give him the wrong idea. You don’t want to give yourself any wrong ideas either.

_I don’t believe you_

A few minutes pass and you decide that you need to get back to buying books for school. The wedding is in two weeks and then school starts right after that, so you want to be ready. Books are expensive though, and so is a new dress, but you can afford it now and that makes you proud. Your nerves have been on fire lately, about the wedding and about the classes you’re taking. You wonder if you can go to campus early, so you can find all the rooms without getting lost. Like a test drive.

An image pops up on your phone and John is in his bathroom, taking a picture of his reflection in the mirror without a shirt. The bruises are purple now, much better than deep red you saw at the hotel. You zoom in to look at his face and you see how he hates taking a selfie by his grumpy expression, but it’s still cute. You look closely at the appendix scar and it looks almost healed, from what you can tell. His hair is soft and he’s wearing jeans low on his hips. It’s a really sexy picture, even if he didn’t mean it to be. 

Just to be fair, you take a selfie and send it back. It’s the first one you’ve sent him. The late evening lighting at your kitchen table is really good right now. You have a pencil stuck in your hair and a tinted gloss on your lips. Your skin looks good against the black tank top you’re wearing and it dawns on you that you’re actually getting a tan. Usually that never happens because you don’t go anywhere except work. You have the next two days off though and can’t wait to get outside while the weather is still warm. 

He calls you immediately. 

“Hi, John. How are you?”

“I would be better if you would let me take you to dinner tonight.”

You smile and push your laptop closed on the table. “I can’t tonight, I have to finish getting my books for class and I wanted to read about orientation.”

“Doesn’t a girl have to eat? I can make something instead.”

“I had a late lunch actually.” You tell him, getting up to clean the kitchen. “Sam likes the girl who works at the Thai place across the street from work, and he makes me get lunch there so he can go pick it up. I’ve had Thai food every day this week.”

“Damnit, Sam.” John mumbles, his tone teasing. “Always getting in my way. I might need to have a little conversion with him.”

“Poor Sam.” Laughing, you start to put dirty dishes in the dishwasher. “You’d scare the crap out of the poor kid.”

“He needs to learn a lesson.” 

“I don’t think--” There’s a knock at your door and you tell John you’ll call him back. You hang up and you’re still grinning when you answer, half thinking John will be on the other side wanting to take you out. Your smile fades when you see that it’s Max.

Fear floods your body, but you stand your ground and you look at him dead in the eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

He smells like cigarette smoke and he looks disheveled, with a dirty black t-shirt and stains on his pants. The baseball cap he has on casts a shadow over his eyes, but when he moves into the light you can see they’re glazed over. And then you smell the alcohol on his breath. “Came to see you.”

“You could have just called.” You tell him sternly, your hands shaking. You tightly grip your cell phone, trying to think how you can call Jimmy. Your mind is blank. You're frozen.

“Didn’t want to call.” He takes a step to come inside, but you block him. 

“You can’t come in.”

He pushes your body easily out of the way. “Don’t remember asking.”

“You need to leave, Max. Now.” Your throat is dry but at least you don’t feel like you’re going to cry. You’re too angry.

The kitchen looks so tiny around his big frame and he takes up practically all the space in your apartment. He’s disgusting and all consuming. He slowly walks around the kitchen island, like he owns the place, stopping at the table and chairs. 

“That’s not very polite. Aren’t you glad to see me after all this time?”

You don’t close the door. Maybe Francis or a neighbor will walk by and be able to help you. Or at least hear you scream. “No, I’m not. I thought you were staying at your mother’s. What happened?”

“Mama don’t like me and my friends no more. Said I needed to get a job n’shit.”

You try a different tactic and walk more into the kitchen, putting your cell phone on the island but it’s hidden from Max’s view by the toaster. You casually look down, like you’re nervously playing with your hands while you find your contacts. “Well, that’s too bad. Why don't you get a job?”

“I got better things to do than work at some shitty gas station like you.”

_I’m an assistant manager_. You want to say it, but you play the sympathy card. “Yep, it’s so shitty. You would probably hate it. You’re too smart for a job like that.”

He’s leaning on the chair with John’s suit jacket laid over it. Crap. You hadn’t forgotten it was there, but you haven’t given it back to John for no other reason that you liked having something of his at your place. 

“What’s this?” Max takes the suit jacket and lifts it up to look at it. You take advantage of the distraction and call Jimmy, leaving your phone open and on silent. 

“I don’t know.”

His face pinches and his jaw ticks with irritation. “A dumb bitch like you got a boyfriend?”

“What? No.” You laugh shrilly like it’s a ridiculous idea. But is it? You were able to block out a lot of the abuse from Max, but now the doubt and shame are starting to feel familiar. “Look at me. No one would want me.” 

“Yeah, let’s look at ya.” Max throws the jacket on the floor and stumbles across the kitchen. As he comes closer, your courage takes over and you try to make an escape out of the apartment, but he slams the door shut and grabs your arm tightly. “You look different.” His eyes trail up and down your body. It makes your blood run cold. 

“I got my haircut. Hey, do you want some coffee?” You try to pull away, but his grip is painfully solid, and you move to stand in front of your phone so he doesn’t see it. “I was just going to make some.”

He’s staring at you now, silent. You look over his shoulder and don’t make eye contact, but you try to seem calm. It seems like forever that you’re both standing there, but he finally releases your arm and goes to the fridge. “I need a beer.”

“Yes! Let’s go to the bar! It’ll be good, right? To see everyone?” You desperately want him out of your apartment. Anywhere in public would be better than this. 

He smacks you across the cheek effortlessly, like he’s done so many times in the past. It stings, but it doesn’t surprise you. “And tell them what? I just got out of jail for pushing you ‘round a little bit? Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You’re right Max, I’m so stupid.” You can feel a drop of blood on your cheekbone and it makes your hands turn into fists. 

“Dumb bitch.” He mumbles, turning to get a beer. You take it as your chance and grab your phone before running towards the door again. He’s quick though, he always was, and his height gives him advantage of pushing the door shut. You dunk and try to run to the bathroom instead, but he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, yanking you down to the floor. 

“Stay there.” He points down at you. 

Don’t crumble. You can do this. The palm of your hand is cut and you realize your phone cracked when you fell. It’s broken and useless. You sit on the floor and put your arms around your knees in an attempt to make yourself small. You feel small but your mind is telling you to get up. It’s a mental battle and you don’t know what to do. 

The door bursts open, breaking the wood frame and Jimmy is there. Jimmy is _here_ and you can hear him yell at Max to get back. You put your forehead on your knees and rock back and forth, trying to tune them out. Jimmy pauses when he gets to you and you peer up at him from the floor. There are tears in your eyes and you're struggling to hold them. Jimmy must decide you look okay and moves closer to Max. You know that you need to stand so you haul yourself up and Max is sitting at your kitchen table, smirking like a douche bag. He’s looking at you, and then past your shoulders when his eyes widen in fear. 

You feel John’s hand on your back, instantly knowing it’s him and you can suddenly breathe. He walks straight to Max and now Jimmy is trying to tell John to stop, but he doesn’t. He punches Max in the throat with a quick jab of his hand. Max chokes and John’s elbow is now flying through the air at the side of Max’s head. He immediatly slumps in the chair, unconscious.

Jimmy sighs loudly and puts his hands on his hips. “Hi, John.”

“Hi, Jimmy.”

“You uh… slipped and tripped?”

John nods, his voice is calm. “Yeah. I slipped and tripped.” His white shirt is dotted with Max’s blood and he’s breathing heavily, like he ran up three flights of stairs. 

“Hi.” You whisper and give a weak wave. “Thank you, both.”

John and Jimmy share a look and John runs to your side. “Let’s get you out of here.” He wraps an arm around you and holds you close to his body, shielding you from having to look at Max. You're trembling and he pulls you closer as you get to the elevator. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t either. It’s almost a state of trance that’s come over you. The farther away you get from the apartment, the more your heartbeat steadies. 

John opens the door to his car and helps you, guiding you gently until he’s satisfied that you’re all the way in and he reaches over your lap for the seatbelt. You stare ahead, mind blank and you can hear his voice, but you have no idea what he’s saying. Finally, you turn to look at him. He’s kneeling on the cement and his hand is on your knee.

“What?”

“I’m going to grab your things.” He explains softly. “You can’t stay there until the door is fixed. Anything you want besides your clothes?”

“Um…” You try to think, processing what’s going on. “My purse. It’s on my desk.” 

“Sure, anything else?”

You look down at John now. His eyes are searching yours, and you wish that you could reassure him that you’re fine. But you can’t. Because it’s not true. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all right. I’ll be right back.” He stands up a little, leaning over you to put the keys in the ignition and turns it so the air comes on. “I can take you to the hotel if you want or to my house. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, okay? Just think about it.”

You probably nod but you can’t be sure. He closes the door anyway and you watch as he jogs back to the entrance of the building. You take the time you have to yourself and try to calm your nerves. You do some deep breathing. The tears are about to fall, but you suck in some air and close your eyes. 

A few minutes pass and John comes back out with your purple backpack on his shoulder and your purse in his hands. If it wasn’t for such a crappy situation, you’d smile at John carrying all of your stuff. He hands you the purse through the open window and puts your bag in the trunk.

He gets in the car and starts the engine. Then he waits for instruction, not hurrying you to make a decision but patient and kind. 

You know where you want to go, but you don’t want to be a burden either. He could just drop you off at a hotel and then he wouldn’t have to deal with your problems. But that’s not what you want and he probably wouldn’t have offered to go to his house if he didn’t mean it. He would have never mentioned it, right?

“Can we go to your house? If that’s okay.”

He smiles, seeming relieved. “Of course it’s okay.” John pulls out of the parking lot and he lets his hand drop to the middle of the seat. “I’m just gonna leave my hand right here, just in case anyone wants to hold it. No pressure though.”

It’s a sweet gesture and you take his hand, folding his palm over your knee and holding it there. You stare out the window as he drives. The sun is sinking in the sky and all the buildings you pass are nothing but a blur. The adrenaline is making your body tense and all of your muscles hurt. Your head is pounding. 

John only lets go of your hand when he parks the car at his house. He helps you get up slowly and you appreciate that because everything is still a little fuzzy. He leads you into the living room and you sit on the couch. Pooch can sense your mood and puts his head on your lap, looking up at you with big doggie eyes. 

“Pooch, up.” John says and the dog jumps on the couch, laying next to your side. You feel instant comfort and pet him until he starts to fall asleep. 

The garage door is going down and you hear John walking in the hallway, setting your backpack and purse on the coffee table. He disappears again, but comes back shortly carrying a glass of water and a first aid kit. 

He sits next to you and doesn’t say anything, but you know he wants your hand to clean the cut. It’s nothing but a scratch, but you let him look at it anyway. He smooths it with his thumb and dabs some ointment on the irritation. The cut on your cheek is next and he gently moves your hair behind your shoulders. This one stings a little more, and you let out a low hiss. 

His voice is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. “You’re going to have a black eye.” 

“I know.” You figured as much. You’ve had many back in the day to know what one feels like. 

“You have to tell me what else hurts.”

You turn your head, gathering your hair so John can see the back of your scalp. “He pulled my hair. It’s throbbing.”

It must be bad because John murmurs something under his breath and parts your hair so he can see better, his fingers gentle as he moves over your tender skin. “There’s some blood. And some of your hair is missing, but it’s not that noticeable.”

You feel sick. How dare Max do this to you. How could you let this happen again.

“Did he do anything else?”

“No.” You sigh, shoulders slumped in defeat and exhaustion. “I guess not.”

John doesn’t touch you more than he has to and he gets up, quickly coming back with some tylenol and two bags of frozen peas. “One for your eye and one for your head.”

“Thanks.” You take them and use one of the bags as a pillow to rest the back of your head, and press the other one to your swollen cheek. You take the pills and John sits on the coffee table, looking lost. 

“What do you need? What can I do?”

You close your eyes and focus. The cold is burning on your wounds. “What’d Jimmy say?”

“He’ll be over later to take your statement.”

“And Max?”

His voice is low, unwavering. “Back to jail. For now.”

You take a deep breath and blink a few times. Your vision is getting a little better. “I should probably call my therapist.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“I broke my cell phone. I don’t have her number. I don’t have anything.”

John sits forward and reaches to cup your face, cradling your chin. “We’ll just google her website and find the number. You can use my office. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

You nod and get up slowly, John moving to help you upstairs. He grabs all of your stuff too and Pooch follows closely. You’re not surprised that he puts your bags in his bedroom, doubting he’ll let you out of his sight anytime soon. 

His office is classically decorated, with a dark oak wood desk and a leather chair that you sink into. There’s various paintings on the wall and the last of sunlight is flooding the room. He leans over your shoulder, opening his laptop and you type in Beth’s information, the number to her main line coming on the screen. John hands you his cell phone and you leave a message with his phone number, knowing she’s probably in a session or finishing up for the day. 

While you both wait, John goes to put on a fresh shirt. You curl up in the big leather chair and look at the things on his desk. There’s a calendar and a small globe, some paperwork, and a few books. You pull the chain on the lamp since it’s starting to get dark. 

“I’m going to order dinner.” He tells you, coming back to the room. “You’re probably not hungry but you might be in a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel like anything?”

You shrug, not knowing. “Comfort food?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

Pushing his cell phone towards him, you ask if he needs it. 

“No, I have another line downstairs. You’ll be okay up here?”

It’s then the phone rings and you recognize it as Beth’s number. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

He closes the door behind him to give you some privacy. 

You take a deep breath and wish you could fast forward the conversation. Beth gasps a few times when you tell her what happened and you let the tears flow. The image of Max standing in your open doorway is haunting. You don’t dare think of what could have happened if the guys hadn’t showed up. Finally, you finish and you feel completely worn out. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Beth says, sincerely. “And you’re at John’s house now? For a few days?”

“Yeah. I guess. I haven’t really had time to think of anywhere else to go.”

“From the sound of things, I think John is glad to have you there. Do you feel safe now?”

Your fingers travel under your eye and trace the dried blood. “I do.

“Good,” She tells you and her voice turns serious. “Every time you start to think about what Max did, every time you start to play it over in your head… I want you to close your eyes and say to yourself that you’re safe. Can you do that for me?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Close your eyes. And then say ‘I am safe.’” You do what she wants, but she makes you repeat it three times. She lets that sink in before she asks, “Tell me what else you’re feeling?”

It comes out shaky. “Just that it’s my fault. That I deserved this.”

“Do you think _anyone_ deserves to be abused?”

You close your eyes. “No.”

“Then why would _you_ deserve this treatment?”

“I don’t know.”

Beth takes a minute and then continues, “Look, I know this is hard right now but I need you to think back to when we talked about worth. Remember? You decided that you are worth caring for.”

“Yes.” You remember. It was like something clicked on in your brain, all that time it was on the off switch. 

“It’s okay to forget sometimes, especially after something traumatic. With some self care, you’ll start to remember again. I promise you’ll get through this. I’m glad you called me.”

“Me too. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yes, and if you need anything else in the meantime, please don’t hesitate.”

You hang up and take John’s phone with you to his bedroom. There’s a light on in the hallway and downstairs where you hear the low sound of the TV. You grab your backpack, wanting to change into some sweatpants and you unzip it having no idea what John would have packed for you. 

Your heart skips a beat when you see your pill container right on top. Well, he knows. You could care less right now though and move to your clothes. You recognize them from a pile of clean laundry you hadn’t put away that was on your bed. John must have grabbed it all and stuffed it in the bag. There’s a handful of panties, a bra, and a few t-shirts. No pants. You sigh and put everything back, then go downstairs still wearing your jeans. 

“John?”

“Hey, how’d it go?” John clicks off the TV and sits up.

“Fine, I feel a little better. Thanks for letting me use your phone.” You hand it back to him. “Do you have any shorts or pajama bottoms I can borrow?”

He looks disappointed in himself. “I didn’t pack any? I’m sorry.”

“Stop, it’s not your fault..” You tell him, squeezing his arm. “You got everything else I need.”

“Really?”

You think about your toiletry bag with your soap and shampoo, your mini blow dryer and perfume, but you nod and give him a true smile. “You’re the best.”

“C’mon. I should have something that fits.”

He doesn’t. You have to roll the top of the pants so they're not so long, and they’re still pretty baggy, but at least they don’t fall off. You go back downstairs and find the kitchen table full of take out food.

“What’s all this?”

John stops and smiles when he sees you’re wearing his clothes. “They fit okay?”

“Yeah, kinda.” You pull up your tank top to show him how many times you had to roll the cloth over and he chuckles.

“I guess that’ll do. Are you hungry?”

There’s macaroni and cheese, chicken, and green peas in containers and it smells amazing. You sit down at the table, trying to gauge your stomach if you’re hungry or it’s still rolling with adrenaline. “The mac and cheese looks good.”

“Yeah? You got it.” John hurries to get a plate and fork for you. You take a few bites before your stomach turns and you begin to pick at your food.

John’s watching you. “You don’t have to eat. I’ll put it in the fridge in case you want it later.”

“I’m sorry,” You tell him. “I’m just tired. When does Jimmy want to talk?”

“In the morning.”

That surprises you and you give John a look.

“It’s true, he said there’s plenty to go on even without your statement for right now. Max can’t drink while on parole so that was enough to hold him.”

You yawn, not being able to hold it in and your eyes become watery with the need to sleep. Nodding, you accept his anwer. 

“Do you want me to take the couch? 

You give John another look, but this one is entirely different. Just in case he doesn’t get it, you simply shake your head. 

He’s finished cleaning up the kitchen and starts to turn the lights off. “If you want to take a shower, I got some stuff that you like in my bathroom.”

You’re going up the stairs and nearly trip. “What?”

“Hold on.” He lets Pooch back in and grabs the bottle of tylenol. He jogs up the stairs and meets you at his bedroom door. You both walk in and he turns on the bathroom light, pointing out the same shampoo and conditioner you have at home. There’s a bottle of perfume near the second sink, a comb, face wash, a toothbrush and a bar of soap. 

You blankly stare at him for an explanation. John blushes and crosses his arms over his chest, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down. “I um… I took note of what you had at your apartment when I stayed there.”

You pick up the bottle of perfume. “And these things are here because?”

“I got them a while back, hoping… Anyway, they seemed useful now.”

“John, you would’ve had to go to the beauty store to get this.”

“I did.” He says simply. 

You sigh, not believing how sweet he is. When he hangs a woman’s flannel bathrobe in your size on the back of the door, you tear up. 

“I swear, it’s not weird. I just saw it and thought of you.”

Smiling sadly, the tears drop and you try to push John out of the room so you can shower.

He stops you though and brushes your cheek. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

You nudge him out of the way and he takes a step back. “Then stop being so nice to me.” 

The door closes and you let yourself cry through a shower. You don’t wash your hair because it hurts too much. The cool water is refreshing though and you know you’re probably puffy from crying so much. You think of the bags of frozen peas on your face earlier and feel lucky John still wants you around. What a complete hot mess you are.

Getting dressed, you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. It’s the first time in awhile you haven’t been able to face yourself, but you’re too tired to overthink it. You’ll try again tomorrow. 

John is in bed when you open the door with his usual sleep clothes on and watches with concern as you crawl in beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

You sit up and rub at your temples. “My head hurts.”

John places a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently. A moan escapes you, unconsciously, and instantly some of the tension bleeds out. 

“Can I give you a very platonic back rub?” He asks you innocently. When you peer sideways at him he looks innocent too and you give him a small smile. 

John takes that as a yes and sits up to lean against the headboard. He motions for you to sit in between his spread out legs and while yawning, you drag your heavy limbs and sit with your back towards him. 

His fingers brush through your hair, moving it to the side. “Can I look?” You nod and feel him delicately touch your scalp. “It doesn’t look any worse.” But it doesn’t look any better. You exhale, your shoulders falling forward as he traces along your spine, pressing and pushing at the bones and muscles. When he gets to your neck, his hands move under the straps of your tank top and he rubs in soft circles until you’re able to relax. 

You’re not entirely sure how it happens, but he somehow gets you to lay back against his chest and he presses his lips to your temple. His fingers are sliding up and down your arms, almost tickling but with enough pressure to feel good. He stops suddenly and you feel him wrap his arms around your waist in a hug. You lean your head on his shoulder and exhale, letting yourself be surrounded by John. It feels so good.

You remember about his injuries and feel bad you haven’t even asked how he’s doing. “Am I hurting your chest?”

“No, not at all.”

You laugh softly. “I can’t believe you sent me a selfie.”

He pulls away, pretending to be offended. “I thought you’d like to see the progress of your ice healing.”

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining.”

A few seconds of silence pass and then he says softly, “You sent me one too.” He tightens his hold around you.

“You should delete it. I don’t know what got into me.”

He chuckles and you feel his beard on your forehead. “No way, I’m going to print out a hundred copies and put them all around the house.”

“You do that and I’ll kill you.”

“That’s really mean.”

You smile and turn in his arms, getting more comfortable and using his chest as a pillow. “Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

He shifts in the bed too and lays down the best he can with you on top of him. “Stay as long as you want. Stay forever.”

“That’s very _friendly_ of you, John.”

“We do make really good friends. We take good care of each other.”

You close your eyes and take another deep breath. “That, we agree on.”

TBC 

<https://nicb0723.tumblr.com/>


	5. Chapter 5

**

A bright light turns on and you gasp for air. You’re having trouble breathing, your lungs struggling to work right and it’s making you panic. The feeling of Max’s hands around your throat slowly fade away as you wake up from your nightmare. 

John is trying to coax you to open your eyes. You can hear his voice and once your vision isn’t blinded you see that he’s reaching for you, wanting to calm you down. He presses his hand to your heart, which is almost beating out of your chest. 

“Hey, shh. Just breathe with me, okay?” 

Both of you are sitting up and you feel as if the whole bed is shaking, but it’s just your body. The room is spinning and the warmth from his hand is finally starting to ground you. 

“I’m sorry,” You pant, trying to catch your breath. “I think I had a dream.”

John leans towards you, pushing away damp hair from your forehead. You’re drenched in sweat. You see that John’s t-shirt is wet too and you’re embarrassed, a wave of heat coming over your already hot skin. “I don’t think you slept at all, you’ve been restless since you closed your eyes.” His voice is soft with worry. 

Your nerves are quieting down and it takes everything in you to hold back tears, trying not to cry. “I’m sorry. I should just go. I don’t want to keep you awake.” 

If he’s frustrated with you saying that you should leave, he doesn’t show it. “Can you just let me take care of you? Just for tonight? Trust me.”

All you can do is nod and he gets up, taking off his damp shirt and tossing it to the floor. You watch, sitting in bed, as he goes to the bathroom and turns on the tub. The bruises on his back are just starting to slightly fade. He’s in there for a while and you look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It’s 2am. The emotions from the day are still with you, which means you probably haven’t slept much at all. You’re groggy and tired, and you just want to sleep. 

You’re sticky with dried sweat though and if John is making you a bath, you won’t protest. Your hair is clinging to your neck and you don’t even want to know what you smell like right now. 

He comes back to you, motioning for you to follow him. You look at the bruises on his chest as he grabs your hand, steadying your wobbly legs and leads you into the bathroom. It’s dim, with a few candles lit and this would be incredibly romantic if it wasn’t for the crappy past few hours. 

“You have candles?” You ask dumbly, looking around and you see the tub is full of bubbles. 

John is unfazed by your inability to comprehend anything right now. “You’re squinting, which means you probably have a headache. I didn’t want it to be too bright in here. Can I help you get in?”

You nod and turn your back to him before taking off your tank top. You cover your breasts with your arm, even though he’s practically seen all of you. It still makes you feel vulnerable. “Can you close your eyes for a minute?”

He does and you push down the pajama pants of his you’re wearing. You’re completely naked in front of this man, but all you can think of is how disgusting you must look. And smell. This is not sexy at all. John’s entire upper body is dotted with purple bruises and you feel like a baby with two minor wounds. 

“Don’t look yet.” You grab his arm for balance as you step carefully into the bathtub and he instinctively knows what to do, where to hold you as you sink down into the warm water. 

“Are you good?” His eyes are still closed and you bring your knees to your chest. The tub is huge and there are bubbles everywhere. Considering the circumstances, this is perfect. 

“I’m good, thank you.” 

John opens his eyes and kneels next to you. He’s just in his sleep pants and you know that you made him sticky from your sweat too. You try not to let the thought overwhelm you with shame.

“I’m going to change the sheets and then I’m going to help wash your hair.”

The sternness in his voice makes you smile. You couldn’t argue if you wanted to. “You’re a really good nurse, Mr. Wick.”

He gives you a curt nod and moves to get up, the tasks ahead obviously on his mind. He stops though and gives your jawline a gentle swipe with his thumb. “How’s your eye?”

“It’s okay.” You tell him, not really believing it yourself, and he doesn’t either. He gets up anyway and you lean back, letting the water soothe you as you listen to him bustle around. You let your mind go blank for once and practice your deep breathing, and the words Beth told you to think about. You’re safe now. You’re safe.

Enough time passes for you to relax and John was right, the low lighting almost puts you to sleep. You startle when he comes back and sit up, running your hands up and down your face, the water a little cooler now. 

He grabs the new bottle of shampoo off the ledge and you point to the conditioner with the pink roses on the label. “You’ll have to use that too.”

“Right.” He looks lost. 

“John, just get in the tub. This is the least sexual thing ever and it’ll be easier.”

He’s completely stunned at your request and just stands there with the two bottles in his hands. 

You stare back at him and scoot towards one end of the tub so he can get in behind you. “I promise not to look.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You’re tired and you want to sleep. “I’m sure that you’re probably sticky because I sweat right through your t-shirt. I’m sure that if you get excited while you’re washing my bloody scalp, there’s probably something wrong.”

“You’re right.” He puts down the shampoo and you stare straight ahead while he slips his pants off, stepping in behind you. “This is not how I imagined our first time in my bathtub would go.”

You can’t help but to lightly laugh. “Really? Do I want to know?” You feel his knees at your hips and you know there’s no way you could accidentally touch anything if you keep leaning forward. 

John uncaps the shampoo and you can smell the familiar pear scent. “There was supposed to be grapes and champagne.” He says, absentmindedly. You can tell that he’s focused on your hair and not hurting you. He begins with the damp strands covering your back and slowly moves his way to the nape of your neck. You try not to jerk when his finger gets too close to a sore spot. 

He pulls away quickly. “Sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“It’s okay, you’re doing great.” You encourage him to keep going. Clean hair would make you feel a lot better. 

“I guess this is payback for making you give me a sponge bath, huh?” 

You smile at the memory. “And I washed your hair in the sink.”

“That’s true,” He’s quiet and concentrating, his fingers slowly getting shampoo all over, including your forehead and you close your eyes just in case.

You clear your throat before you nervously ask, “Is this having the same… effect?”

John gets the showerhead to rinse you with warm water and grabs the conditioner next. “Uh, no. Not at all.” He globs some on the ends of your hair and works it in. You can tell he’s never done this before and even though his fingers are long and powerful, they’re awkward and clumsy right now.

“You didn’t have to buy all of these things for me.” You tilt your head as he rinses with water again. “I could’ve just used your shampoo and stuff.”

“I want you to be comfortable here.” He gathers all of your wet hair and places it over your shoulder, your back completely bare in front of him. You feel fingertips tenderly follow down your spine and stop suddenly. “You have a bruise.”

“I hit the ground pretty hard.” 

You’re glad you can’t see his expression because you’re pretty sure it’s frightening. There’s a beat of silence and then he asks if you’re ready to get out. You nod, and turn your gaze away when he stands up and steps out, draping a towel around his hips. He gets another towel ready for you.

The bubbles are almost all gone and he probably has a good view. You’re not sure where the sudden surge of confidence comes from, but you don’t ask him to close his eyes or not to look, and he doesn’t offer either. He meets your eyes straight on as he helps you get to your feet, quickly wrapping the towel around your body, pulling you close as a shiver runs over your skin. 

“Are you cold?”

“No,” You say it softly, wanting to tell him he’s the reason but you can’t find the words. “I’m just tired.” 

He leads you out into the bedroom, but not before you grab the comb by the second sink. “Let’s get you dressed. Do you want another pair of my pants? Your bathrobe?”

“Well, since naked is our new thing, I’m thinking underwear and a shirt.” You grab some panties out of your backpack, slipping them on under the towel, and search for what would be a comfortable top. They’re mostly work shirts, maroon polos with the gas station name embroidered on the front.

John hands you one of his t-shirts. It’s v-neck, navy blue and it looks incredibly soft. “This is not very naked.” He tells you, feigning disappointment.

“Oh, I meant you would be naked.” You smile and take the shirt from him. He rolls his eyes and puts on some pajamas too, his towel falling to the floor. 

The sheets are cool and fresh when you get in under the covers. It’s now almost 3am and you’re both exhausted. John lays back on his pillow and yawns, and you comb out the damp ends of your hair quickly but carefully, pulling it in a loose ponytail. He watches until you settle, then reaches to switch off the light. You curl up next to him and take a deep breath. 

“I’m scared to fall asleep.” You whisper, the darkness making it easier to admit. 

He turns on his side to face you. “Did you know… that I’m an assassin in dreams too?”

That makes you laugh. “You’ll save me in my nightmares?”

“Yeah. I’ll save you wherever you are.”

His voice is so confident that you can’t help but to believe him. “You already saved me a few times.”

“Consider a professional courtesy.”

“Not personal?”

Finally, his hand finds your arm and you scoot closer. You’ve been waiting for his touch and you let your bare legs tangle with his under the sheets.

“It’s slightly personal.”

You pretend to be offended, turning so your back is facing him. “Slightly? What’s a girl gotta do to get a _very_ personal courtesy around here?” 

The bed shifts as he leans up a little and you feel his lips touch your cheek. “Go to sleep.” He wraps a strong arm around your waist and buries his face in the back of your neck. His chest is strong against your back and you breathe again, finally closing your eyes.

**

You don’t have another nightmare, but you don’t sleep soundly either. You must’ve passed out though because John is gone and sunlight is streaming in the bedroom.

There’s another pair of his pants folded on the bed and you take them in the bathroom with you, brush your teeth, wash your face, and let your hair down. Your head is feeling a little better, but you’re still too tired to think about anything so you go downstairs in John’s shirt and pants.

Jimmy is at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and you cross your arms over your chest, hoping he won’t realize you’re not wearing a bra. You don’t care anymore if John notices, but you don’t want to indecently expose yourself to someone else. “Hey, Jimmy.”

“Hey! How are you feeling?”

John is standing in the kitchen, perfectly dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white cotton pull over, leaning on the counter and when he turns to look at you the small smile is enough to make you blush. You couldn’t have even put on your own shirt? From an outside perspective it looks like the two of you had a very good night together.

“I’m fine, thanks.” You take a seat next to Jimmy and notice that he has a notebook and pen waiting. 

John hands you a glass of orange juice and when he tries to step away from the table you grab his hand, pulling him to sit down too. You don’t really want to have this conversation without him being close. 

You take a deep breath and start from the beginning, John nodding along to everything leading up to the knock on the door, having been on the phone with you. It’s embarrassing when you have to explain that it was John’s suit jacket that set Max off and you peek at John’s expression, but he’s just listening. 

Jimmy asks some more questions, but it’s pretty clear what happened with your injuries and he takes a few pictures of your eye and head with his phone. John takes a minute to inspect your head himself while you have your hair parted. When they're done you ask how John knew you were in trouble and Jimmy admits to calling him, and John admits that he already knew from the security camera alerts right before Jimmy got a hold of him. 

“You did really awesome, you know that?” Jimmy says, gathering his things. “You should be proud of yourself.”

You give him a doubtful look. “I have a black eye and a chunk of my hair ripped out.”

He gives you the same look back. “Remember last time?”

Okay, yeah. He’s right. You did do awesome compared to last time.

John is just watching both of you interact, but you feel like he knows what happened because he read the police report. 

“The fact that you knew I’d hear you when you called me is really good.” Jimmy explains. “You can always do that with 911 too.”

“I’ll remember that.” You stand to walk Jimmy to the front door with John, thanking him again for all of his help. He tells you he’ll be in touch about a court date, but not to worry about anything and that you’re in good hands.

John pats Jimmy on the back as he leaves towards his cop car. 

“See you, Jimmy.” 

“See you, John.”

It’s like they have their own little lingo and you wonder how long they’ve known each other. It’s then that you notice your car in the driveway too when Jimmy pulls away.

“Hey… what’s my car doing here?”

“Jimmy and I went back to your place and got it this morning. I drove it back here.”

“What’d you do that for?” You don’t know why, but you find the gesture to be really thoughtful.

John shuts the door, his bare feet padding along the hallway. “I didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. Not with everything you just went through.”

You stop walking and stare at him.

“What?”

“You’re just a really sweet guy. You keep surprising me.”

He has a very guilty face and doesn’t say anything. 

“Oh no, what else did you do?”

“Nothing.” He says it in his lying voice and walks to the living room. Pooch is sprawled out on the couch, passed out. He probably had a long night too with all of your commotion. 

“John.” You put your hands on your hips, looking quite crazy dressed head to toe in his baggy shirt and pants. “What did you do?”

“You…” He stands close enough so you have to look up at him. “Are incredibly cute in my clothes.”

“We’re not changing the subject.” You’re determined not to let him distract you. Sort of.

He wraps his arms around your waist and it’s the first time he’s done something like this outside of bed. It makes your stomach tingle. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” You confess and give in, placing your hands on his chest. 

He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling in the corner. “There’s a really good food truck halfway around the lake. Do you want to take a walk?”

“Do they have coffee?”

“We’ll get you all the coffee you want.”

You put your head on his chest too and sigh. “I don’t have any makeup to cover my black eye.”

He squeezes you close before he lets you go. “Hold on.” He goes to the kitchen and comes back with some very stylish sunglasses. “Will these work?”

Slipping them on, you grin up at him. “Do I look like an assassin?”

“Very bad ass.” He laughs and you both head upstairs. 

When you’re alone in the guest bathroom, you finally look at yourself in the mirror. It’s not as bad as you thought. There’s still a small gash on your cheekbone and a bluish tint under your right eye. Anyone walking by probably wouldn’t notice, but you definitely need to cover it up before going into work. Your hair is curly from sleeping on it and you brush what you can, leaving the sore spot alone. You still look tired and your color isn’t back to normal, and you definitely need to eat something soon. Hearing footsteps heading downstairs make you hurry and get dressed in jeans and a shirt. 

John meets you at the front door with Pooch’s leash and the weather is actually nice out, cool but not too breezy. You grab your purse and the sunglasses, ready to go. The walk to the lake is only a few minutes and Pooch keeps you both entertained, John even stopping to take a few pictures with his phone. 

“I have a question.”

Oh boy, this is never good. “Yes?”

“Do friends take selfies together?”

It makes you smile. “You couldn’t ask that when I don’t look like complete shit?”

“You look beautiful.”

“John.” You roll your eyes at him, shushing the flip flops in your stomach and take his phone, pointing it at the both of you. “Are we serious or goofy?”

He steps closer and has to lean down a little. “Um, regular?”

You giggle and accidently take a picture. You were going to delete it but John is watching you laugh with a small smile on his face. It’s really cute and John grabs his phone back before you can do anything. 

“You know this is the start of something, right?” He asks, putting it back in his pocket and letting Pooch lead the way.

“What do you mean?”

He bumps into you on purpose, knocking your arms together. “Means I have selfie fever.”

“Great, just what I need right now. Two beat up people taking selfies together, very classy.”

John just grins. “I have another question.”

“Oh, good.” It comes out a little sarcastically. “I see the theme for today. Shoot.”

He slows his stride a little so you can keep up. Your limbs still feel heavy. “Can friends platonically hold hands while they're taking a walk?”

Hmm. “That is a very good question, Mr. Wick.”

“Yeah? I thought so.”

You think about his question and what it would mean. At this moment you’re too tired to figure it out and you feel like you’ll probably need to bring this up at your next therapy session, but right now John is looking at you expectedly and it’s not that big of deal, right? You practically slept on top of him last night. 

You reach out your hand for his. “Only when we’re walking?”

  
He eagerly switches Pooch’s leash to his other hand so he can grab yours. “Oh, I can’t promise that.”

The lake is sparkling and there’s not too many people around. You can’t help but notice that John is walking in the opposite direction of the picnic table where you met. “Any other questions?”

“A few, but I’ll save them for now.”

You squeeze his hand. “So, it’s my turn then?”

He squeezes you back, pulling you a little closer and tells you to go ahead.

“How did you and Jimmy meet?”

“Me and Jimmy?” He’s surprised at your question, but answers it. “He was a rookie cop and had to go to my house once for a… noise complaint. I think someone told him what I do because he didn’t give me a hard time.”

“Noise complaint?”

“Yeah.” John stops walking and shuffles his shoes on the dirt path. He’s thinking of a way to tell you something. “Sometimes business happens at home, but not for a long time now. It’s safe, I promise.”

You push the sunglasses up over your head since there’s hardly anyone around. “You know I trust you, right?” He doesn’t say anything and you drag him back on the path to start walking again. “Okay, so I’m learning to trust you. And myself, so that’s big, ya know?”

“I know.” He nods and starts again, “So one day I was in the city and Jimmy had arrested this big gang banger, pretty hardcore guy. He wouldn’t leave Jimmy alone after he got released and while Jimmy can handle himself… I helped him out.”

“You killed the guy?”

John pulls on your hand and you fall closer to his side. “The whole gang. They were terrorizing the streets.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say to that and wonder if John can feel your palm get sweaty. You pull your hand away and wipe up and down on your jeans. John is crestfallen, but you have to ask a few questions to feel comfortable again. “What if they were just kids? Maybe they could have been rehabilitated?”

“I don’t… kid’s don’t cross my path. And these guys were underground, into sex trafficking and drug dealing.”

You feel slightly better. “What about women? Do women cross your path?”

He hesitates and that’s a yes. “Once. And I tried everything not to do it. But, I had no choice or I’d be dead right now.”

You’re processing and start to walk again. You don’t feel right about judging him, not when you don’t know the full story, but it’s unsettling. “You’ll tell me about it sometime?”

“I will.” It sounds like a promise and you believe that he’ll keep it. John nervously touches your wrist and you slide your hand in his again. “So, Jimmy…” He starts slowly.

“What about him?” You ask. 

“I’m curious…” He pauses. “Why did you call him yesterday and not me?”

The food truck comes into view and you can smell breakfast burritos and coffee, your stomach growling. “I think seeing Max just took me back to that time before I knew you and Jimmy was the one who helped me. I didn’t even think about you to be honest. I was in shock.”

John frowns and you can see he’s hurt. “Well, can you think about me next time you’re in trouble? I’d kinda like to be there.”

“Hopefully I don’t get into any more trouble.” You mumble, half reading the menu on the truck.

“If anything happens while you’re at work, or home, or out shopping, wherever. Just call me first.”

Even though you’re starving, his comment makes you turn to stare at him. “John Wick… are you jealous Jimmy saved me and not you?”

“... no.”

“Yes.” You laugh and John sulks even more. “Do you still want to hold my hand?”

He grumpily lets go of your hand, just to wrap his arm around your waist from behind. “This is punishment for making fun of me.”

“You’ll always be my hero, John. Don’t you worry.” You tease, and lean into him. He asks you what you want to eat and you take Pooch to go find a bench in the shade. The sun is starting to get warm and it’ll be a hot afternoon.

John comes over a few minutes later with two coffees and a brown bag under his arm. You both dig in, letting Pooch clean up little spills and you sit back to relax, enjoying your coffee when your stomach is finally full.

“When are you going to work again? Does Carla know what happened?” John asks, still eating. He ordered two burritos and extra bacon, which mostly is for Pooch.

“No, no one knows. I’ll get some makeup to cover my black eye, I don’t want anyone knowing what happened.” You think back to when Max hit you and when you went into work with Gary there, and how he saw you were hurt for weeks but never bothered to ask if anything was wrong. You don’t imagine Carla and Sam would have the same reaction, but you’re not ready to share this much yet. “I already had today and tomorrow off, so I’ll go back in on Saturday like usual. By then the door to my apartment should be fixed, right?”

John gathers all the trash and sits back to enjoy his coffee too, shyly sliding his free hand in your lap. “I’m not sure, I told Francis to call me when it’s fixed. It might take a few days. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while.”

“Hmm… I could get a hotel, you know? Or stay with Carla? I don’t want to impose.” It’s half a joke but you’re half serious too. You really don’t want to overstay your welcome. 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You smile. “Or, I know this assassin who likes to fix things in random girl’s apartments without her even knowing. I wonder what he’s doing these days.”

“He’s busy.” John plays along. “I guess you’ll have to stay with me.”

Laughing, you get up to take all of the trash to the garbage can a few feet away. Pooch follows every move you make and you pet him when you sit back down, John’s arm around your shoulders now. 

“I do have to go into the city tomorrow.” You tell him. “Carla is taking me to get a dress for the wedding.”

John’s mouth twitches with a smile, his fingers brushing your neck. “Really? That should be fun.”

“I think so, I’m looking forward to it. Oh, I keep forgetting to ask you. Do you want me to pick up a present for them?”

He crosses his legs and thinks for a minute. “I didn’t really think about a present.”

“I know, that’s why I’m reminding you.”

“Well, if I had to get Marcus something it would probably be a gun.”

You put your hand on your forehead, laughing. “No, John that’s not an appropriate wedding gift.”

“Oh.” He still looks so confused and it’s adorable.

“How about we look for ideas online tonight, okay?” You stand up and reach for his hand because you know it’ll end up holding his anyway. “Should we go back? I’m kinda ready for a nap. It was a long night.”

“It was a long night.” He agrees, getting up too and calling Pooch to come back from sniffing under a tree. “I’m glad you let me take care of you for once.”

“Let’s not get in the habit, I can take care of myself.”

John bites his lip from smiling. “You’re going to be so mad at me when we get back.”

**

There are two small packages on the porch when you walk up to the house and you give John a look as he opens the door.

He avoids your eyes, carrying the two boxes and putting them on the table. You head to the living room and stretch out on the couch while John gets Pooch some water, coming back with a bottle for you too. 

“How’s your head feeling?”

“Better than last night but still not great.”

“That’s to be expected. You should try to rest.” John grabs the blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over you. 

“You’re not tired too? I kept you up practically all night long.”

John smiles. “Do you want me to lay down with you?”

“Maybe.” You scoot over and make room for him.

He moves the blanket to get under, but stops. “Can we do the naked thing?” 

“Just while we nap?”

Grinning, John unbuttons his jeans and you do the same, both pairs of pants falling to the floor. 

“This isn’t very naked.” You tell him, yawning. You’re thinking about taking your bra off too but you’re just too damn lazy right now.

“Oh, I meant you’d be naked.” He’s joking and you try to shove him away, but he just laughs. 

“No funny business, John. I’m serious.”

“You’re in charge.” He lays down and you cuddle to his side. The couch is barely big enough for the both of you, but it works. Pooch jumps up by your feet to plop down and both of you groan. Now it’s a tight squeeze. 

“Really? I’m in charge?” 

John adjusts his arm around you and suddenly you’re very comfortable, a perfect fit. “Well… of this.” He gestures his hand between the two of you. “Whatever this is, it’s all your lead.”

You like his answer and even though you’re pretty sure he’s making all the moves, he definitely hasn’t crossed any boundaries. At least not without checking with you first. 

“What’s in the boxes?”

He closes his eyes. “Shh. I’m sleeping.”

You poke him in the stomach and yawn again, the little energy you had left draining from your body. 

**

It’s late afternoon when you finally wake up and both John and Pooch are gone. You’re so sleepy that you don’t know exactly where you are or what day it is, but you finally feel rested. It’s a relief to feel back to normal, aside from the tenderness on your scalp and the bruises dotting your skin. 

There’s a pair of John’s pajama pants on the coffee table and when you slip into them you realize the bottom of the legs are cut off so they fit you better. 

Well, he’s not making this any easier. The lines are starting to blur in your mind. All you want to do is kiss him, but everytime you think about it there’s an underlying apprehension. It’s just not the right time. Not after yesterday. 

John is in the kitchen getting dinner started and you slide into the chair at the counter, languidly watching him until he notices you.

“Well hi there, sleeping beauty. Do you feel better?” He brushes your hair back, caressing his thumb over your ear. 

“Mmhm. Yeah actually, I do. Did you sleep? I didn’t even hear you get up.”

He stifles a laugh and goes to the fridge, pulling out some grapes to snack on. “You, my dear, were snoring.”

“Oh god.” You’re mortified and hide your face in your hands. “You’re never going to get any sleep with me here.”

John laughs and tells you it’s not a big deal. “You needed the rest.”

He sets a bowl of grapes in front of you and pops one in his mouth. 

“What, no champagne?” You ask, eating one too.

“Grapes and champagne are only for the bath.”

“Oh, of course.” You stretch out your leg and point to the pants with the seams cut. “And these?”

“I didn’t like those anyway. Too tight in the crotch.” John winks and goes to get you a glass of water. 

You shake your head and try not to laugh. From what you’ve felt nudging you accidentally a few times in the middle of the night, you’re not too surprised. You feel yourself blush at the thought.

“So, there’s chocolate ice cream for dessert.”

“What’s for dinner? Do you need help?” You ask. 

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup, if that’s okay.”

You nod, that sounds delicious. “Finally, the famous grilled cheese.”

John walks around the counter and goes to the kitchen table where the boxes are sitting. “You only get dessert if you don’t get mad.”

“You’re bribing me? With chocolate ice cream? Am I five years old?”

“Are you going to get mad?” He picks up the boxes and sets them on the counter, getting a knife that looks lethal. 

“Probably.”

“Then yes, I’m bribing you.”

“Fine, I won’t get mad.”

He gives you a doubtful look when he snaps the blade open and slices the tape. Out comes a new phone and a new laptop. He puts the phone in front of you first. “It’s all set up with your old number and I put you on my family plan.”

You stare, dumbly. “You have a family plan?”

“Now I do and I’m really happy about it, so please just take it.” Then he slides the laptop with a purple cover out of the box, setting it to the side. “You’ll need that for school.”

You take a deep breath and think about trying to give them back and the useless arguing just isn’t in you right now. Instead, you decide that you might buy him something to return the favor, when he’s least expecting it. Two can play this game. 

“Thank you, John. This is really sweet.”

He stops fidgeting and narrows his eyes. “You’re seriously not going to fight me?”

The cell phone is shiny and way more expensive than your old phone, which used to be grandma’s when she could still see the numbers. “I’m not going to fight you. In fact…” You get up and crook your finger for him to bend down. Your lips press against his beard and your arms fall around his shoulders for a hug. “You’re my best friend, I hope you know that.”

His mouth presses at your forehead and his hands are on your hips. “You’re my best friend too.”

You let the moment sink in, both of you swaying in each other’s arm. “Maybe we are five years old.”

Laughing, he pushes you away to start the stove. “Why don’t you look for wedding gifts while I make dinner?”

“On my brand new computer? Hell yes.” You’re excited and you can tell it makes John happy. 

It takes a few minutes for everything to boot up, including your phone and you discover that John isn’t the best with technology, which you find amusing. Once everything is set, and after John suggests that your password be ‘I heart Wick’ you do a search for popular wedding presents. 

“Well, there’s money.” You read off the screen. “That’s like, number one.” 

“Marcus has plenty of money.”

You look around the house. “I guess being an assassin pays well?”

“That might be an understatement.”

“Hmm. Okay, well let’s see…” Obviously John has money, but you didn’t want to assume. “There’s engraved champagne glasses, a custom doormat, wine, a nice frame?”

John shakes his head at all of the suggestions as he moves around the kitchen. 

“Well what does Marcus like to do? Besides… well, you know.”

John is slicing cheese and offers you some, putting it to your mouth to take from his fingers. You don’t know why, but it makes your knees weak. 

“He always makes me juice when I go to his house. It’s never very good, but he was telling me his juicer was getting old.”

“Perfect!” 

“That’s it?”

“Yeah! See, you can pick out a good wedding gift.” You look up juicers and text John the link to the one you think is the best. From your _new_ phone. 

“Have you ever been married?”

The question takes you aback, not at all prepared for this conversation. “No… in fact, I haven’t really dated much. I had a boyfriend in high school, but then grandma got sick so… and then Max.”

John looks just as surprised as you feel. “So, the only real relationship you’ve had is with… Max?”

“Well, yeah. I was taking care of someone and working full time just out of school. I had no idea what I was doing, obviously.”

John stops stirring the soup and looks at you. “Wait. Are you a… “

You raise your eyebrows. “A what?”

“Um…” He looks away, embarrassed. “Never mind, it’s not important.”  
  


“No, John.” You sigh. “I’m not a virgin.”

“Okay.” He says carefully. 

You take a big drink of water, your throat suddenly dry. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway. “Have you ever been married?”

“Yes, I was.”

Now you’re careful with your words. “What happened?”

“She was sick for a long time and she passed away about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry, John. That’s awful.” You think back to the tan line around his finger when you first met him. 

John nods, looking down at the food. “I was pretty devastated. Couldn’t even take my ring off until a few months ago.”

“Of course, I can understand that. What was her name, if you don’t mind?”

“Helen. Her name was Helen.”

“Such a pretty name. Do you have a picture of her?”

He looks at you sharply now. “What?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean… you don’t have to show me, I was just wondering why you don’t have any of her up around the house?”

“I did have a lot.” John says, starting to take bowls and plates from the cabinet. “I just recently took them all down.”

You remember the frames he had in stacks in different rooms when you first visited. “Okay. But maybe you should keep at least one around, you know? Just to have a reminder that she’s always with you.”

John’s eyes are glassy, his lips in a straight line and you can’t tell if he’s pissed off or sad. 

“Are you okay?” You want to grab his hand but unsure if you should. “Thank you for telling me about her.”

“Yeah. I haven’t really talked about her death with anyone.”

You get up to help with the dishes, but keep some distance. “Well I’m here now. You can talk about it any time you want, grieve if you have to. That’s what my therapist said, at least. Grieving is the only way for the heart to heal. And you don’t have to grieve just about people. You can grieve about lost time, losing a job, divorce. Anything.”

John gives you a soft smile. “You sound like an expert.”

“I tried to block out grandma’s death instead of grieving.” You tell him. “Not only did I do that wrong, but I didn’t give myself a chance to grieve about my childhood that I never had. I never really got to be a teenager either. So, yeah… I know it’s painful and you probably don’t want to do it, but it does help. How long were you married?”

You both sit at the counter to eat, a casual setting for such a serious talk. 

“About 5 years.”

“Did she know about your… work?”

John shakes his head. “She didn’t. I hid it from her at first, and then I retired for a bit so she didn’t have to know.”

You wonder if you hadn’t met him the way you did, would he have told you? There’s some silence and you’re nervous about what you want to ask him but you do it anyway. “Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

The mood instantly changes. “I thought I would never want to, but I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

It’s not exactly what you want to hear. You don’t really believe in the idea of marriage and never truly did. The fact that you’re going to a wedding is something you would usually not do, but John needed a friend and you put your thoughts about marriage to the side. It has a lot to do with your parents and how destructive their relationship was, but you decide this isn’t the best time to share and keep your mouth shut. 

Instead, you stuff your mouth with grilled cheese. “This is so good. Can I have another one?”

John just blinks at you, a slow smile forming on his lips. He takes half of his grilled cheese and puts it on your plate. 

Out of everything he’s given you, that half of a sandwich means the most. 

TBC

<https://nicb0723.tumblr.com/>


	6. Chapter 6

** 

The next morning John insists on taking you back to your apartment to get some more things and to make sure no traces of Max were around. 

Going back to your apartment makes you feel uneasy, but you know if more time passes it’ll just make it harder. 

Francis stops to talk to John and they flip back and forth between Russian and English, and it makes your heart skip a beat hearing John fluent and speaking effortlessly to try and figure out your door situation. 

“He said someone will be here on Monday.” John tells you in the elevator. “He couldn’t find anyone to fix it over the weekend.” 

“I have to stay with you the whole weekend?” It doesn’t come out like you meant it to, you just don’t want to impose, but John crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head, waiting for you to explain. “I mean… I get to stay with you the whole weekend?”

There’s caution tape hanging over your door and John takes it down so you can go inside. “Let me guess, you feel like you’re being a burden, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You admit softly. “This is so hard.”

John takes your hand and goes to sit on the bed while you stand between his legs. He looks up until you meet his eyes. “You do realize that I like helping you. And that I like having you at my place. That you could move in with me right now and I’d be the happiest I’ve been in a long time. You staying with me is not a burden. You are not a burden. Do you understand?”

You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand. “Okay.” 

“Okay? Or yes, you understand?”

“John, I’m trying.” You pull away and rub at your temples, that familiar pain of a headache starting to pulse. You can see an image of Max at your kitchen table and it gives you the creeps. John’s suit jacket is still on the floor so you pick up, shaking it out. You don’t give it back though and instead, drape it over the chair. The least you can do is have it dry cleaned later, but John doesn’t need to know that. 

He watches as you gather some more clothes, pajamas and your makeup and hair dryer from the bathroom. You start to grab the shampoo and soap, but remember that John already has that for you. God, could he be any sweeter? Everything is tossed on the bed and you go back to him, leaning down for a hug. “If I was a burden, would you tell me? I feel like you wouldn’t tell me.”

He hugs you back hard and moves so you can sit besides him. “Do you think I’d be here right now if I felt that way? We’re best friends, remember?”

You give him a doubtful look and a shrug. “I don’t know, you’re a nice guy. Nice guys do nice things.”

“Trust me, I’m not that nice.”

With the way he’s looking at you right now, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched, you don’t dare question him. Your eyes fall to his lips and they look so soft compared to his sharp features. The need to taste him is suddenly overwhelming. Both of you are starting to lean in when his phone rings from his pocket. You get up quickly to get a bag for all of your things, pretending to be busy while he takes the call. 

That didn’t just happen, so just forget about it. You seriously need to get it together and not kiss a guy only two days after being tossed around like a ragdoll. There’s something just not right about it and you don’t want John to fill a void that you need to heal yourself. 

Is he speaking Italian now? God. 

You dab some concealer under your eye as you wait and since you have time, put on some mascara and lip gloss. You’re able to toss your hair and it’s a relief that your head finally feels better. You strip off the work polo you had to wear this morning and walk back into your bedroom to find something else. John’s seen you practically naked so you don’t think much of it, but when you turn around after pulling on a thin sweater over a tank top, he’s staring at you.

“What?” 

He puts his phone back in his pocket and leans against the wall, still looking at you but not saying anything.

“What?” You ask again. “You walk around in your boxers all the time, what’s the difference?”

“A bra and boxers are very different.”

You smirk. “Are you complaining?”

“No.”

That’s what you thought. “Can we go? I have to get my car from your place and get to the city before lunch time.”

John walks into the kitchen and looks around, satisfied that nothing seems too out of place. There’s no blood or anything by the table, John’s shirt catching most of it but your broken cell phone is still on the floor under the counter. He picks it up and tosses it in the garbage. The door frame is in a few different pieces and you thought that you heard Francis mention something about getting you new locks. 

“I’ll drop you off.”

You’re in your own thoughts when John speaks. “Hmm?”

“I have to go into the city too. I’ll drop you off at Carla’s and when you’re done, text me and I’ll pick you up.”

“Are you sure?” His offer is generous. You hate driving into the city by yourself and dealing with traffic. 

He nods and leads you out the door, replacing the caution tape. “Yeah, I have to take care of a few things.” His voice is low, and it sounds like it has something to do with work so you try to lighten the mood. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come dress shopping with us?” You ask, swinging your bag over your shoulder. You would kill to see John in a dress shop. 

“I’ll leave that to you girls.”

“Bummer, you would’ve been very popular, I assure you.”

“Do you know the name of the store?” He asks and you check your phone. Carla just text the address of what gas station she’s working at today and told you she’ll drive from there. 

“No, but Carla wants me to meet her on Fifth and Broad street.” You’re not paying attention and texting her back, so John guides you to the car and you both get in after he puts your stuff in the trunk. 

The traffic isn’t too heavy and you’re done letting Carla know you’ll be there soon, so you turn towards John and get comfortable. 

“No fancy suit today, even for business?”

He shifts and grips the steering wheel harder. “I have a safe deposit box where I keep a spare suit if I need it.” 

“Will you need it?”

“Not sure yet.”

He’s being oddly quiet and you wonder if it has something to do with the phone call earlier. “Were you speaking Italian?”

“Si.” He nods, eyes still on the road. 

Anxiety is starting to build and you know that a ramble is about to start any minute. Or you’re going to start asking more questions and that’s just annoying. Usually by now he would have tried to hold your hand or rest his palm on your knee, but he’s focused and you’re not sure what to do. You don’t want to pull out your phone and ignore him either, but something tells you to be mindful and silence is okay. 

At a red light John shifts again and lets a hand fall to his lap. You stare at it, wondering if you’re allowed to reach for him. You can’t decide and the whole time you’re debating in your head, John continues to drive totally oblivious.

Before you know it, he’s turning into the gas station and pulling up next to Carla’s car. He turns off the engine and gets out before you can say anything, walking around to open your door. You get your purse and lean against the car, looking up at him. 

“We should just be a few hours. I can find something to do if you need more time.”

“Okay.” The way he’s looking at you is intense and you’re still not sure what to do. 

“I’ll see you later? Thanks for driving me.” You grab his hand and squeeze it, reassuringly if not for him, but for yourself. 

“I’ll walk you in.” 

“You’ll… huh?”

“Carla, I want to meet her.”

“Oh?” All you can do is blink and process how you’re going to get out of this when you hear Carla yell out your name and start to jog over, the sound of her heels echoing under the high roof of the gas station. 

John smiles widely and presses a hand to your back, sliding it slowly around your waist. 

“Hey, Carla! How are you?”

“I’m good, sweetie! Ready to take you out on the town!” She gets a little flustered when she comes closer to John. “And who is this handsome fella? Is this the guy Sam was telling me about who always brings you coffee?”

Coughing, you try to clear your throat. Dammit Sam and his big fat mouth. 

“Uh yeah, this is John. John, this is Carla.” 

They shake hands and you know Carla is swooning on the inside. 

“Nice to meet you.” John says, his voice deeper than usual, his arm pulling you closer to his body. “I understand you’re going shopping?” 

“Yes!” Carla finally takes back her hand and holds it to her heart, like a princess in a disney movie. She snaps with it and fusses with her purse, trying to get her keys out. “I’m taking her to this real sweet shop called Marty’s… it’s on second? Anyway, there’s this great little coffee place I know she’ll love right around the block from there.” She winks at you, knowing your passion for coffee. “Are you ready to go, hon?”

You feel John let go of your waist only to grab hold of your hand. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

She nods and runs towards her car, pulling out her phone to check for messages. 

John is staring at you again and now you can’t stand it. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing.” He pulls out his wallet and hands you a credit card. “I want you to use this.”

You’re so confused. “For what?”

“For the dress. You shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

“Oh please. Are you serious right now?”

“See, I knew you’d do this.”

You glare at him. “I have my own money.”

He takes a step closer to you. “If you don’t take this credit card I will call the store and give them my information over the phone, and I know that’ll embarrass you.”

This is actually starting to piss you off. “John Wick, are you threatening me right now?”

“No…”

He is no match for a woman scorned and if looks could kill, he’d be dead. “Fine. I’ll take it.” You snatch it out of his hand and put it in your purse. You have no intention of using it and he realizes his mistake when you start to walk away. 

“I’m calling the store.” He says loudly and you rush back to him. 

“I swear John, we are going to have a talk about this when I get back.”

He smiles, knowing he won. “I look forward to it.”

**

Carla asks you a million questions when you get in the car. 

Is he your boyfriend? He’s so handsome! 

Do you live together?

Why isn’t he your boyfriend? He obviously likes you.

Does he have a single brother?

What does he do for work?

You avoid and deflect but your skills that usually work on John reflect off of Carla like bullets on Superman’s chest. You answer her questions the best you can and hope she doesn’t get too nosy. The dress shop is finally coming into view and you sigh some relief when she gets distracted by all the pretty clothes. 

Carla’s style is definitely different than yours, but that’s one of the reasons you wanted her advice. Everything she picks out you would have never considered, but she seems to know fashion because almost all the pieces look really good on you. She makes you twirl in a silver blue dress, with the skirt going down to your knees and a cute neckline that she says accentuates your collarbone. There are also shoes (flat) and a purse and a new bra and it’s all a little overwhelming, and once you go to the checkout counter, you’re a little sweaty. 

You wander over to the men’s section when Carla decides to try on a blouse for herself and a pair of cufflinks catches your eye. There is a pair of small, square ones that are black with a silver edge that you really like and add the little box to your pile. 

Between both you and Carla, there’re a ton of shopping bags and walking down the street to the coffee house is a funny sight. It’s worth it when you step inside and smell the rich flavors, your mouth watering at the freshly baked bread, cookies and sweets.

Carla insists on treating you, a thank you for all of your hard work, and you both settle down into a booth. You ask about her daughter, Erin, and she tells you that her first year of college has been difficult and she hopes the second year will be better. 

“Why was it difficult?” You ask. “Did she have hard classes?”

“No, she’s deaf and it’s been a hard transition for her. Plus she’s working part time at the gas station in the city, so she has to juggle both. She’s there today for the closing shift, you’ll have to meet her when we get back.”

You tell Carla that you’d love to and that you hope she has a better year. “That must be really hard, I had no idea she was deaf.”

“Yes, it caused quite the strain on my marriage but my ex was a deadbeat anyway. Erin is amazing. She can read lips and she’s studying to be a teacher.”

“Good for her!” You ask more questions about college and let Carla know you’re thinking about taking classes too, but it won’t interfere with work. 

“You’ll be a lot busier, that’s for sure.” She says. “But it’s very rewarding. I’m glad to hear it.”

After some gossip about Sam and the girl from the Thai place, who he finally asked out, Carla needs to head back and you thank her again for such a lovely time. You text John to let him know you’re leaving the restaurant and stop to buy some cookies on the way out for after dinner tonight. 

“Does John have a sweet tooth?” Carla asks and you nod. “He would never admit it though.”

**

He’s leaning on the car when Carla pulls in and you swear she whispers  _ damn _ under her breath. You’re pleased to see that John didn’t have to change clothes and is wearing the same jeans and black shirt you left him in. His smile is wide when he greets you and he helps with all of your bags. Carla runs to get Erin so you can meet her while you’re still packing the car. 

“Looks like you made out well.” He closes the now full trunk and turns to you, grabbing at your hand. 

“I did. Carla wants me to meet her daughter, it should take only a minute. How’d you make out?” You scan John’s body for any sign that he’s hurt and you spot bruised, cut up knuckles. “What’s this?”

“Nothing, just a scratch.” 

You give John one of your looks and hand him back his credit card before you forget. 

“I saw you made a purchase, thank you for using it.” He must’ve been checking his account on his phone all this time. 

“Checking up on me now, too?”

“Not checking.” He says slowly. “Just... hoping.”

You smile and reach to stroke his hair back. “Well, I split the bill, genius. Compromise?”

He catches your arm and kisses the inside of your wrist. “I missed you.”

“We were away from each other for like, three hours. Don’t get attached.”

“I can’t help it.” 

You hear Carla coming closer and dragging her daughter behind her, who looks shy. You wave and smile, tucking yourself next to John’s body. You missed him too.

“Erin, this is John.” Carla introduces him as she signs and your eyes light up when John starts signing as well. 

“Nice to meet you.” He speaks and his hands move at the same time. Carla gapes at you and all you can do is blankly look at her. You had no idea.

The three of them have a conversation in sign language and try to include you, but they’re all excited and you’re still too stunned to pay attention anyway. From what you can tell, they’re talking about Erin’s school and John points to you. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said that you’re starting to take classes in the fall too.” John explains. “You guys can be study buddies.”

You laugh and Erin does too. She’s at least ten years younger than you but you think that she had to grow up fast, not unlike yourself. A man drives up and she has to get back inside to help a customer so she waves goodbye. Carla gives you a quick hug and she tells you that she’ll stop by next week on her usual day. John nods and smiles at her, and she runs off inside too. 

“Ready to go?”

You sigh as he opens the door for you. “Really, John? Sign language too?”

He rounds the car and shrugs his shoulders. “I must’ve picked it up somewhere.” He gets behind the wheel and makes sure your seatbelt is on before he starts the car. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes, it was really nice to have some girl time.”

“Girl time, huh?”

“Yep.”

John frowns, keeping his eyes on the road. It’s busier now with rush hour traffic. “What’s a guy gotta do to get in on some of that time?”

You laugh and reach over to twirl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I could put barrettes in your hair and give you a mud mask when we get to your house.”

“Sounds exhilarating.” He seems less than enthused and you snicker at the thought. 

His knuckles look painful and you don’t want to touch them, but at the same time you want to comfort him too. 

“What happened to your hands?”

John side eyes you and stays silent. 

“Okay, fine. Anything else hurt?”

“No.”

You try not to say anything, but eventually it comes out. “How is it fair that I tell you almost everything and you don’t have to tell me anything?” 

“I tell you stuff.”

“Mmhm.” You cross your arms over your chest and scoot towards the door. 

“Fine, I paid Max a visit in jail.”

Your mouth drops open and now you wished you hadn’t asked. You wait for him to finish, but that’s all the information he gives you.

“And?”

“And what?”

You stare at John and then rub your temples. You should have known he wasn’t finished with Max.

“Oh, I didn’t kill him.” John says, “But I don’t think he’ll be bothering you anymore.”

“Perfect.” You sit back in the seat and close your eyes. “You can’t just go around beating people up.”

“Apparently I can.” He says it so nonchalantly that you turn to stare at him again.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

You fiddle with your purse strap. “Well, thank you for telling me. I think.”

“You’re welcome.” He stops at a red light and gives those wide, pitiful eyes. “Are you mad?”

You scoot closer to him again. “I’m mad at the situation, I’m not mad at you.”

“I care about you, you know that right?”

Smiling, you reach over and touch his hand gently, below a blottled cut. “That’s becoming very clear.”

**

The weekend is over before you know it. You had to work both days, but John made dinner and even cracked open a bottle of wine on Sunday night. After eating you both took Pooch out for a walk around the block, platonically holding hands because “that’s the rule.” Every night you slept by his side and he never made a move other than what he’s done before. He’s very respectful and considerate, making sure your comfort is his top priority. 

On Monday morning you find a rose on your windshield when you get ready to drive to work. You have all of your bags because the door to your apartment will be fixed by this afternoon and you’ll have to go home. You throw them in the backseat, smiling to yourself. When John didn’t want to walk you out, you thought it was odd but not enough to make you question him. The rose is a deep red and there’s no note, but you keep glancing at it as you drive. No one has ever given you a flower before.

You can’t help texting John at a red light.  _ Did you leave something on my car? _

_ I did. _

_ Thank you but why? _

It takes a few seconds for him to respond and you read his answer at the next light. 

_ Just a reminder that not all of us are like Max. _

You would never compare John to Max and even if you did, they’re complete opposites. Sometimes you’re still in awe that John has come into your life, how different it is now. How a few months ago you were living in a hazy world where you didn’t belong. And now it’s so different. Not perfect by any means, but different. Any changes from that life is better and you just hope it stays like this. A part of you feels that any minute something could happen and you’d be right back where you started. It’s a scary thought. 

After work you have therapy and you talk a lot about not living in fear. How the fear doesn’t serve you and Beth gives you some more methods to safeguard what you have now, so you’ll never go back to that dark place. You talk more about Max and that you're proud of how you handled it. You wish the situation didn’t paralyze you so deeply, but Beth reassures you that something traumatic like that has to take its course. 

The wedding comes up and you tell Beth about John holding your hand, what it would mean if you were to kiss him, and all the constant flirting, but never crossing that line. She suggests that you talk to John about whatever it is you’re thinking and that you’re allowed to ask him questions, he’s not a mind reader and neither are you. She explains that communication is important and that it’s good there hasn’t been any physical contact yet. That if it does happen, it’ll mean so much more and the connection will be stronger having waited so long. 

Going back home after such a long day and having no one there really sucks. Sleeping alone sucks. The red rose you put in a vase on the kitchen table helps, but all you can think about is John and that worries you. The last thing you want to happen is to become obsessed with him, always checking your phone to see if he’s called, daydreaming about the next time you’ll see each other. The wedding is this weekend and your nerves are surging uncontrollably. However, you’re not thinking about Max and you consider that a win. 

The only thing that keeps you somewhat calm is work so you do your best to concentrate while you’re there throughout the week. 

John texts you every morning, in the middle of the day and always at night. He asks how your day is and you don’t know what to tell him because it’s incredibly boring. By Wednesday he calls when he knows you have the night off and he wants to see you, making up any excuse to get his way. 

“Pooch really misses you.”

“Is that so?” You smile and put the phone on speaker so you can clean around your bedroom. The dress you bought is hanging in your closet and you can’t wait to wear it. “How can you tell?”

“He told me.”

“Ohh, right, sure he did. And what did he say?”

You can tell John is doing the dishes because there are sounds of clanging pots and pans in the background. “He asked me why the pretty lady had to leave.”

“You’ve had another lady stay at your house? I didn’t know you were such a manwhore, John.”

“Very funny.” He tells you dryly. “You should come over tonight. I’ll make dinner and we can watch a movie or something.”

“I would love that.” You actually would like to see him and think it might be impossible to wait until this weekend. “But I’m going out.”

There’s a beat of silence and John clears his throat. “Oh.”

“Mmhm. I have a very important meeting at the laundromat tonight.”

“Ohh.” John says more easily. “Well just bring your laundry over here. We can eat and hang out while it’s in the wash.”

You’ve never considered that and look at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, which will probably take at least a few hours to get done. You’d much rather be at John’s house than sitting in a plastic chair.

“Are you sure that’d be okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I have everything you need. I’ll see you soon?”

Well, John got his way again but you’re happy about it and gather all of your things quickly. You stuff your dirty clothes into your laundry bag, grab your purse and the bag from Target that’s been sitting by your front door for a few days now. You might’ve bought Pooch a bone while you were out shopping for new clothes. 

You stop and look in the mirror before you head out. After work you had gotten comfortable in some loose grey sweatpants and a white tank top. You’re still wearing your black bra though so you grab a light sweater and flip flops. Not the classiest but good enough. 

The drive over is fast and you don’t bother knocking because he left the door open. You haul in your laundry bag and you can tell John is cooking fish tonight. 

“Smells good.” You tell him, dropping your bag to the floor when you see him in the kitchen.

He smiles at the sight of you, wiping his hands off on a towel before he walks over. 

“Hi.” 

His hugs are becoming addictive and he’s still so careful, his large hands caressing your lower back. You lean into him and savor the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, his solid chest against your cheek. 

He pulls back and touches your fingers as he goes back to the sink. “Are you hungry? It’ll be a little while before it’s ready.”

“That’s fine, I had to eat Thai again today.” You tell him about Sam and his new girlfriend, who is incredibly sweet and how cute they are when she brings him lunch. “He’s allergic to peanuts so he gives his food to me all the time. I told him to just tell her but now it’s become this big thing.”

“Uh oh.” John laughs. “Sounds like drama.”

“Exactly. To be seventeen again and have a peanut allergy be my only problem.”

That’s not entirely true. Sam has his family issues too that he’s confided in you, but it’s mostly about his big brother picking on him so you can’t really relate. 

John sets some carrots and celery out with a dip to snack on. “Is he still going to work when school starts?”

“Yeah,” You get yourself a glass of water before sitting down at the counter. “It works out because he’ll work after school when I have to go to my night class. It just sucks I won’t get to see him as much.”

“Are you getting nervous about going back?” 

You take a carrot and nod. “For English and History I had to take online courses so I can still work my schedule. I only have to go to the campus twice a week for math class, on Wednesdays and Friday at 6pm. Room 245 in the West Wing. I have no idea where that is.”

John is checking the oven and glances over his shoulder. “Do you want to take a walk to the college and find it? That way you don’t have to worry.”

You stop chewing to look at him because you’d been planning on doing that anyway. You can’t believe he offered to do that with you. It’s like he knows exactly how to calm you down. “Yeah? That’d be great.”

“Consider it done.” He gets a package of rice from the cupboard and measures it out. “And school starts when we get back from the wedding?”

“Yep, on Tuesday.” You tell him. You think about Beth’s advice about asking John what’s on your mind and decide this is a good time to try it out. “Speaking of the wedding, are we going to stay there for one night or two?”

“I was thinkin’ two if we drive down on Friday. Then we can relax and do some stuff before Saturday evening, then drive back Sunday morning if that’s okay.”

You’re so glad you requested the whole weekend off from work, it’ll be like a mini vacation. “Is there a Continental in the Hamptons?”

John laughs, there’s no way a hotel like that would be in a small town. “No, but we’ll be staying at the bed and breakfast where the wedding will be.”

You smirk, covering your mouth so he doesn’t see it. “In one room or two?”

He turns around and looks at you nervously. “One room.”

“One bed or two?”

“One.”

Your eyebrows shoot up.

“But there’s a foldaway bed. I could even sleep on the floor.”

You break out laughing, getting up so you can get your laundry started. “It’s fine, I’m just joking with you.”

He still looks uncertain and you go to him, arms crossed over your chest. You don’t think you could handle another hug right now because the urge to kiss him is getting stronger by the minute. “Hey, after everything we’ve gone through together, you seriously think I would mind sleeping in a bed with you?”

He reaches to caress his thumb over your cheekbone, where the bruise and cut have healed. “I never want to assume anything.”

“And I would never worry about that with you.” You grab his hand and place it on your shoulder, squeezing his fingers for a hint. They begin to massage your skin and it feels amazing. “Plus, I think if I didn’t like something I’d be able to speak up about it now.”

“Really?” His hand moves to the back of your neck, behind your hair and where all of your tension lives. “I cannot wait to see that.”

“Me either. I’m usually very agreeable.” You let your eyes fall shut for a few seconds before stepping back. Turns out any physical touch makes you want to kiss him. 

“Except when you’re hungry.”

You open the door to the laundry and stop. “When I’m hungry? You’re the one who gets hangry.”

He scoffs. “Me? No way. You do.”

“Uh, yes way.” You start to load up the washer and turn it on. “If you don’t eat, you get in funk.”

“You mean like when you don’t get your morning coffee?” Well, that might be true. You never realized you get grumpy without coffee. “Don’t worry.” He pops into the laundry room and presses his lips lightly to your temple. “I think it’s cute.”

Mumbling to yourself, you finish up and go back to the kitchen. “Maybe I need to go on a coffee detox?” You get the Target bag you’d left by your purse and before Pooch sees his treat you ask John if he can have it. 

You’d think it was made of hearts and rainbows with the way he’s looking at you as he nods. 

Pooch is out in the backyard soaking up the last of the sun and gets up as soon as he hears your voice. You get him all riled up and laugh as he pounces on you like a puppy. It’s hard not to play with him for a few minutes, giving him kisses and hiding the bone behind your back, confusing him until you can’t take it anymore and let him have it, laughing again at his antics. 

John is at the door, watching and you had no idea that you had an audience. You’re slightly embarrassed he caught you being silly and bump his arm when you pass him to go inside. 

“You said he missed me, right?”

“If I said I missed you, would I get that kind of attention?”

“Too late.” You sing, giggling at the disappointment on his face. “Fine, you want a belly rub too? Come here.”

He looks curiously at you, his hair falling in his eyes as he stands just a few inches from you. Tucking his hair back, you let his strands fall between your fingers a few times before you lightly drag your nails through his beard, skimming his lips with your fingertip. “Satisfied?”

His body is swaying from your touch and you like the effect it has on him. He had closed his eyes and now he’s slowly opening them, his gaze full of adoration. “Not in the least.”

**

It’s Friday mid morning and John is on his way to pick you up. You’re nervous again, twisting the handle to your overnight bag as you wait on the curb of your apartment building. You think about dinner a few nights ago, and how the flirting was starting to get out of your control. How you abruptly stopped and continued the night like almost kissing him never happened. You’re not sure if you have the strength to do it much longer. 

The salmon John had made was perfect and so was the walk to campus after dinner. You held his hand but the tension was thick. Luckily, the both of you got distracted looking around the school and getting lost a few times before finally finding the right building and narrowing down which hallway your classroom would be in. When you got back to the house, your laundry was done drying and you made up the excuse that you were tired and had to be up early. 

Now your whole body is on pins and needles as you watch his car turn into the parking lot. You wave when there’s eye contact and he smiles as he puts it in park. 

“You didn’t have to wait down here, I could’ve helped you with your stuff.” He says, placing your bag and your dress carefully in the trunk.

“I’m very capable. And I got road trip snacks!” You proudly hold up a sack full of trail mix, licorice, and crackers. 

“Are you afraid I’m going to get hangry on the way there?” 

The thought did cross your mind and you laugh as you see two coffees when you settle in the car. 

“Were you afraid I was going to get cranky?”

“Never.” John pulls out of the complex and here you go. It’s only supposed to take a little over an hour to get to the Hamptons, but with Friday traffic it could probably take up to three. 

As you leave the city, John asks if you’ve always lived in New York. 

“Actually, I grew up in California.” You tell him. “My parents shipped me out here to live with grandma when I was a teenager. What about you?”

He doesn’t respond right away and you’ve always wondered about his family, how he grew up, anything about his childhood. You thought it must’ve been quite interesting if he ended up in an assassin school and assumed John wouldn't really ever want to talk about it. Just like you don’t want to talk much about your past. 

“I grew up in the foster system.” He finally says, eyes straight ahead. “In New York.” John doesn’t have to explain much, you can only imagine what that would have been like for him. “I ran away at least once a week. The last time I left was when I met The Director. She took me in and as it turns out, was also one of the leaders for the Russian Mafia in the city.”

You hang on to his every word, listening closely. “How old were you?”

“Eleven or twelve, I’m not really sure.”

“Is that where you met Marcus?”

“No,” John takes a sip of coffee and motions for you to do the same. “It’ll get cold.” He tells you. “I met Marcus when I was in Italy, after I was booted off to the Marines for a few years, and after a lot of training. I was out on my first assignments alone, but Marcus’ job was to trail my every move and I didn’t even know it. He saved my life a few times.”

“Really? Have you ever saved his life?”

Pausing to think about it, he stops at a red light and looks at you. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

You grin softly. “Then there will be two people at this wedding who are very lucky to know you.”

That must embarrass him because he just shakes his head with a small smile and continues to drive. You don’t want to press and ask more questions, so you turn to look out the window. All the trees are turning red and orange, the beautiful shades of autumn on the falling leaves. Time has gone by so fast and it’s hard to think that September is right around the corner. 

Eventually you feel John’s hand find its way to your lap, like usual. It makes you feel cherished and your hand finds his, and you start to play with his long fingers. 

After a few moments of watching out the window, you let your head rest on the back of the seat. “I wish Pooch could have come with us.” You tell him softly.

“Me too, but Cassey was so happy. She said to tell you hello and that next time you’re over, she wants to play again.”

“She’s sweet.” You glance at John, giving him a fond look. 

He grins, threading your fingers together. “You’re sweet.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being so nice.” You whisper, a lump suddenly forming in the back of your throat. Sometimes his comments are overwhelming and it makes you emotional. You’re still not used to it.

He doesn’t miss a beat and squeezes your hand. “Okay.”

There’s not much traffic and the ride is faster than you thought it would be. By the time you get into town, it’s after lunch and both of you are starving. John wants to take you to his favorite seafood restaurant and you tell him that growing up poor you’ve never really had much seafood before, so you’ll need his help. 

It’s an experience to say the least. You discover that you like shrimp and crab, you’re not a fan of calamari but John swears you’ll learn to like it. His eyes are glued to you when the clams and mussels come out and they’re actually not too bad. You think it’s best to save trying the oysters for next time and quit while you’re ahead. 

It’s only a short distance from the restaurant to the bed and breakfast, which is right on the ocean and absolutely beautiful. The room is just like your apartment, only tiny and there really is only one bed but it’s huge. For some reason you wish it was just a little smaller. Your bags are placed in the closet and John asks if you want to take a walk on the beach before it gets dark. The weather became overcast and windy, but you want to go badly. 

The smell of the ocean, the feel of sand between your toes, being here with John… it makes you giddy and you can’t stop smiling. The breeze is chilly though and you only brought a sweater, so John pulls you close as you head towards the peer. He’s been quiet and you bump your elbow into his side, asking if he’s okay.

“I’m okay.” He reassures you gently. “I just really like watching you when you’re happy.”

You tilt your head to lean on his shoulder. “What about when I’m a crying mess in your bathtub?”

He looks away and furrows his brow. “I’d rather you be happy, but I’ll always watch over you no matter what.”

You’re starting to wonder if he’ll ever do or say the wrong thing. And then it hits you hard. Everything he tells you, everything he says to you, everything he promises you… everything has all been backed up by his actions. He doesn’t just talk about whatever he thinks you want to hear, but he actually does things all the time to prove to you that he cares. 

It’s something you’re not used to, only knowing the mindless and endless promises to change from Max. The disappointment consumes your stomach because all this time, you  _ were _ comparing the two of them. And you were letting Max influence your thoughts. Double disappointment. You’ll have some reflecting to do, but you also don’t want to overthink right now and ruin the moment. 

At the end of the peer you lean against the wood railing and look out into the ocean. Your hair is going crazy in the wind and John steps behind you, blocking the breeze the best he can with his body. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, his mouth next to your ear. You nod and he comes even closer, until he’s pressed up behind you with his hands resting next to yours. It’s extremely intimate and you take a sharp breath, knowing you’re going to ruin the moment anyway.

“Is that a knife in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

John laughs and moves his hips. “It’s a knife.”

“Oh, darn.”

You feel his body still and you know he can’t tell if you’re joking or not. You don’t give any hints either and stay silent. 

It’s becoming colder but John certainly is warm and you’re not too sure what he’s doing until you feel his nose at your temple, breathing in deeply. “You smell so good.”

A part of you wishes that he would stop. That part is doubt and fear though, which you refuse to give into right now. So, you don’t pull away and you don’t make a joke. You let him hold you and enjoy the moment because that’s what you deserve. 

TBC

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	7. Chapter 7

**

Back at the hotel room you ring out your cold hair before getting into a hot shower. The damn rain ruined your moment on the peer and you had to run back, soaked by the time you got there. John is out getting something for dinner since you both don’t feel like going anywhere and you dress quickly in pajama bottoms and a loose sweatshirt, still not being able to shake the chill from being caught out in the rain. 

John’s hair is wet when he gets back with some hamburgers from a local diner and he’s so sexy as you watch him take off his damp clothes, wanting to take a shower before he eats. 

“Enjoying the show?” He asks, sliding his shirt over his shoulders and hanging it to dry. 

You grin as you dig into the bags he set on the table. “Best I’ve ever seen, five star rating.”

“Really? That good, huh?” He slips off his shoes and grabs a towel. 

“Well, I mean… I don’t have much to compare to.” But even if you did, you know this is pretty damn good. “Guys don’t usually strip in front of me.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” He grumbles and tells you not to start without him. 

“Okay, fine.” You eat just one french fry. “Can we eat in bed? Like a slumber party?” You call out to him. He left the bathroom door cracked open and you hear the water turn on. “Ohhh! You got us chocolate milkshakes too?”

He pokes his head out, hair hanging in his eyes and he’s looking down like he’s embarrassed about something. “Um… mine is strawberry.”

_Don’t laugh. Do not laugh._ “Strawberry is a very manly flavor, Mr. Wick. I’m not judging.”

“I can feel you judging from here.” 

“I am not!” You giggle and jump on the bed, telling him to hurry up because now you’re getting hangry.

He only takes a few minutes and when he walks back into the room with just a towel around his hips you have to look away while he dresses for bed. No need to torture yourself anymore than you already do. His hair is slicked back and his beard is shaped nicely for the wedding. You’re glad for once there are no bruises or cuts anywhere on his gorgeous face and you can’t wait to see him in a suit again, especially knowing he won’t get hurt this time. 

“So what should we do tomorrow before the wedding?” 

John sits next to you and gets comfortable before you hand him his milkshake, smiling teasingly. He gives you a stern look and you zip your lips with your fingers and throw out the key. That seems to satisfy him and he relaxes. You have a feeling that you just learned one of his deepest, darkest, stupidest secrets. 

“Well, I thought you’d enjoy a spa day.” He says. “So I booked an appointment for a massage and some other stuff… something with mud I think?”

You’re speechless and your mouth is hanging open from the bite you were about to take, but now all you can do is watch John nibble on a fry while he waits for your reaction. 

“You did that? Really?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

Right away you become nervous. You’ve never had a massage and it’s not only because you couldn’t afford it. You were never really comfortable getting naked in front of someone either. John obviously doesn’t mind seeing your body, every curve included, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t test him a little either. Secretly you thought once he saw you, even a little of your body, he would stop flirting and stop trying to be with you. Over the last few weeks you slowly realized that wasn’t going to happen. 

“What are you thinking?” John asks gently. 

You want to be honest with him, but you don’t know how to explain what you’re feeling. “Do people have to get naked when they get a massage?” You blurt out. 

He blinks at you, considering your question. “I think you can do whatever you’re comfortable with. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Kinda.”

John looks down, searching for what he wants to say. “I don’t want to discount what you’re feeling, but I don’t suppose telling you how incredibly bea--”

“Stop. Don’t.” You shut your eyes and take a breath. “You know what? It’s fine. I’m all about trying new things, right? This is really good for me.”

“I can cancel it if you want.”

“Nope.” You’re resolved and determined now. “I’m going to enjoy the hell out of that massage. Thank you for booking it.”

“Good.” He starts to eat again and you do too. “Would it make it worse or better if I told you it’s a couple’s massage?”

You choke and nearly spit out your food. But once you process, you actually would feel better with John there and the thought instantly soothes your anxiety. Now you really are looking forward to it and glad that John gets to enjoy something too. You give him a thumbs up as you drink your milkshake, trying to clear your throat. When you do, you want to ask a question that you have to be sure is worded right. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” John gathers all of the wrappers and throws it away. He looks at you expectedly but you tell him to hold on, that you’re thinking. 

He gives you some space, going to brush his teeth in the bathroom and washing up for the night. When he gets back, you do the same and turn off most of the lights before getting back into bed, sitting close to him and tugging on the bottom of his shirt. 

“Do you…” You start off slowly. “Do you ever get self conscious about your scars?”

He doesn’t seem offended at all and rests his back on the pillows. “Not really. Everyone I know has a lot of scars like I do. We all have tattoos. It’s a right of passage, I guess you could say. I got a little nervous when Helen saw them at first... and you…”

“... you were easier because you already knew what I do for work. I told Helen I got them in the military. Tomorrow at the massage place… I don’t know, I think they see a lot so it never really crossed my mind.”

“They are pretty badass.” You tell him, getting under the blankets. It’s still raining and you hope the weather clears for tomorrow. The bride is probably a nervous wreck. “So, just me and Helen? No one else?” You’re secretly trying to figure out how many relationships he’s had without asking him. 

He gets what you’re trying to do and nods. “Yeah. Just you and Helen.”

You don’t say anything because you’re not sure if you really believe him. He’s too handsome not to have had a ton of girlfriends. But, he did grow up in the oddest way so maybe he didn’t have time or energy. “How did you and Helen meet?”

He looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, probably wondering why you want to know. “We met at a bookstore. I bind old books as a hobby and was there looking for a new project, and she was browsing after a lunch meeting.”

“Did you go up to her or did she come up to you?”

John bites his lip and strokes a hand down his beard. “She came up to me.”

That is surprising, especially considering how forward he is with you sometimes. You thought for sure he’d be the aggressor. Now knowing that he’s not usually the one to make a first move is creating such a deeper affection for him. 

He looks at you, almost timidly, like you just cracked another code and you decide to change the subject. “You know what I never got to do? I never got to take my pop quiz on where to stab a guy.”

John laughs and you see the vulnerability leave his eyes. “You think you can ace it?”

“Do I get some sort of prize if I do?”

He looks at your lips. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, lay back.” You grab a band and wrap your hair on top of your head. “This is very serious now, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, ma’am.” John does what you tell him and the _ma’am_ makes a tingle run over your skin. 

“There’s eight, right?” You scoot next to him and sit cross legged. His hair is jet black and fanned across the pillow, and you don’t think before you push it behind his ears. 

“Right.”

“Okay, one.” You touch his temple and then slide your fingers to the back of his neck. “Two.” He nods and is watching you closely. “Three, the eyeball.” You pause, trying to remember. 

“Do you need a hint?”

“No! That’s cheating. Oh, the armpit.” You try to tickle him but he just smiles. “Okay and then… don’t tell me.” You trace your hand down the middle of his chest. “The heart and lungs. The aorta.”

“The aorta.” He repeats softly, letting his eyes close.

“The liver.” You let your hand dip under his shirt and rub at his warm skin, scratching your nails down his side. He doesn’t move. “The crotch.” You can’t help but notice the slight bulge in his pajama pants, but you ignore it completely. “And behind the knee?”

He exhales slowly and opens his eyes. “See, you would make a good nurse.”

You lay down beside him. “That’s funny. I couldn’t even remember any of the arteries you told me.”

“Well, you still got them all so I consider it a pass.”

“Yeah? So I get a reward?”

He leans on an elbow and now he’s perched over you. “What would you like?”

“Hmm.” You think about telling him what you really want, but you just can’t yet and point to your cheek. He kisses you softly and lays back down. 

“John?”

“Yes?”

Now you lean up over him. It’s hard to look at him in the eyes but you try your best. You remind yourself that you’re allowed to ask him questions. “Why are you always flirting with me?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Because I like you.”

“Do you like anyone else… in the same way you like me?”

“No.”

“So… if something romantic were to happen between us, what would that mean?”

His feet brush against yours under the sheets and it’s comforting to be touching him. “To me? I guess it would mean doing the same things we have been, spending time together and getting to know each other.” He looks at your mouth again. “Just with maybe some... additions.”

You agree, placing your hand on his stomach and he quickly moves to hold it there. “What if you were to find someone one that you really liked? Way more than you like me.”

He tilts his head and furrows his brow. “Why would you ask me that?”

There’s so many reasons, you can’t believe he wouldn’t already know. “I don’t want to get hurt. I still think I’m not good enough for you. I don’t want to lose what we have right now.” 

His voice is soft. “Have I ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough?” 

You notice that he doesn’t say anything about getting hurt or losing your friendship. “No.” You frown. It’s all in your head and you know it. “But I see the way women look at you.”

“But I’m only looking at you.”

But for how long? How could you possibly keep his interest? For now though, you take John’s word for what it is and try to give him a smile. “Thanks for answering my questions.”

He squeezes your hand and pulls on your arm, wanting you to lay beside him. “Thank you for asking them, I know that was hard for you.”

“Yes, it was definitely…. Hard.”

You shriek when he attacks and can’t stop laughing until he decides he’s done tickling and pinching at your kneecaps. After turning off the last light, you snuggle up to his chest and sigh happily when you feel his arm wrap around you. “Go to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

There’s a press of his lips to your forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”

**

The smell of coffee wakes you up and John had let you sleep in way later than you wanted. You’re pretty sure he turned off your alarm, but you’re not positive. The way he’s watching you run around to get ready, sipping his coffee with an amused smile on his face though, you’re fairly certain he’s guilty. 

“John, this is not funny. Now I have to rush.”

“Relax, we have plenty of time.” He says, pouring you a cup. “Here, sit down and have some coffee with me.”

“No, I don’t want any coffee.”

He gives you a disbelieving look but it’s true for once. Your stomach is in knots. 

“You really don’t want any?”

  
You throw open the blinds and it’s a relief to see the sun shining. “Not right now, I’m too nervous.”

John quickly gets up and goes to you, grabs your hand and drags you to sit down next to him on the bed. “Hey, come here. Talk to me. What are you nervous about? The spa?”

“No…” You wrap your bathrobe tightly around your chest, rocking forward a little to try and get your stomach to settle down. “I think it’s mostly about the wedding.”

His hand finds its way to your back and gently rubs up and down. “I’ll be with you the entire time. I won’t take my eyes off of you.”

Inwardly you cringe because you really don’t want to tell him this. It hit you late last night while you were trying to sleep, envisioning the wedding and the guests and dinner and… conversations. “I guess… I guess I’m just embarrassed.”

He stops rubbing and you sit up a little. “About what?”

“Um…” You sigh and press your fingers to your temples. He takes your hand and brings it to his lap. 

“Do you know you always rub your forehead when you’re stressed?”

You give him a weak smile. “Is that why I have a dent?”

“Stop, you do not. Can you tell me what you’re embarrassed about?” He’s being so sincere that you can’t not tell him. 

“What if someone starts talking to me? And they ask what I do for work?”

John searches your eyes, trying to understand. “You tell them?”

“I’m embarrassed I work at a gas station, okay?” You spell it out for him. “There, I said it.”

“Oh… well, why?”

All you can do is stare, trying to get him to understand through your _seriously_ look. 

“I’m sorry, I guess I don’t get it. People need gas, right?  
  


You nod. 

“Don’t forget you’re an assistant manager now, right?”

You nod again. 

“You’re going back to school, you're working full time, you’re in charge of a bunch of kids and deal with customers all day long. I could never do that.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” John starts to squeeze at your neck where he knows the spot of tension lives. “You took incredible care of your grandmother. You got yourself out of a shitty relationship.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. Not your greatest moment.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t the best way but still… you are resilient, you know that? You’re hard working, you’re dedicated, you’re caring, you make me laugh--”

His lips are soft when you shush him with your fingers. “Okay, I get it. Thank you.”

“I can keep going.”

“Well…” You hesitate again. “There’s just one more thing…”

“Tell me.”

“Will there be dancing?” You ask him earnestly. “And if so, can we not dance anywhere near the cake?”

He gives you an odd look and nods. “Sure.”

Feeling a lot better you get up and unpack some clothes for the spa. You’re not really sure what you should wear but John has on his regular jeans and a black t-shirt so you follow with something simple too. 

When you’re in the bathroom brushing your hair, he puts a cup of coffee down on the counter and okay yeah, it’s probably why you’re in a mood. “Thanks... but I was only cranky because I was nervous. Not because I haven’t had my coffee yet.” Just the smell of it calms you down and you cradle the mug to your chest. 

John just smirks. “Feel better?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you ready to go?”

You take one last sip and grab your bag. “Yes, I’m ready.”

**

As it turns out, there was nothing to be nervous about. Once you saw the place and met the ladies giving the massages, you were able to loosen up and enjoy it. John’s eyes were on you the whole time, making sure you were comfortable and you can’t keep your eyes off of him either, wanting him to have a good time too. 

The masseuse was very reassuring when you pulled her aside and asked what you should wear. She told you for the best possible massage you should be naked, but John was right and you could wear whatever you wanted, so in the end you took your bra off but left your underwear on. Maybe, if there’s a next time, you’ll be able to undress all the way.

Once John sees that you’re okay, he closes his eyes and you think he might have fallen asleep, but he keeps peeking at you. The hour goes by quickly and the both of you laugh when they give you a mud wrap, leaving you in the room by yourselves to let it dry. Both of you are blissed out, giggly, and relaxed. 

It was probably one of the best experiences you’ve had and with John being there too, it made it all the more special. There’s still a few hours before the wedding so you get lunch and head back to the room for a nap and another walk along the beach before getting ready. 

Your dress fits perfectly and you fix your hair like Carla suggested, leaving your neck bare with just your silver cross necklace. When you walk out of the bathroom, John is dressed in a dark navy suit with a black button down shirt and black silk tie. He looks amazing and you realize that your clothes match, being two different shades of blue and if you’re completely honest with yourself for once, the both of you look very good together.

“Hey, John?” He steps away from the mirror after straightening his tie. You love this look, with his hair slicked back and beard trimmed neatly. His dark eyes are fixated on you and the nerves are starting to swarm again. “I have something for you.”

He glances at your mouth. “Okay?”

You hold out the small black box you had been hiding in your hand. “Don’t freak out, I just saw it and thought of you.” You think back to the flannel bathrobe he bought you to keep at his house. 

“What’s this?” John takes the box slowly, like he can’t remember the last time he was given a gift. 

“Just a little something from a friend.” You want to tell him that this is a small thank you for everything he’s done but you don’t think he’d appreciate it. He’d probably take offense because he never wants to be given any gratitude for even the smallest things he does all the time. 

He lights up when he sees the cufflinks and he just stares at them for a while, and then looks at you with the softest eyes. “These are really nice. Thank you.”

“Do you like them?”

“Very much.” 

You watch as he changes them out with the cufflinks he was already wearing. As you put the finishing touches on your makeup, you see John in the mirror look at the cufflinks about a million times. It’s really cute and you think that you did good. 

Right before you leave for the wedding you put a small wrapped present in your bag. You give John a wink and tell him to come on, you don’t want to be late. 

**

The sun is setting beautifully as the bride comes down the aisle and you're surprised at the prick of tears at your eyes. She looks like an angel. She looks _happy_ and so does the groom. Is this what happy looks like? You hold it together and throughout the ceremony John’s hand is on your knee. Your mind drifts as the minister continues… you had completely forgotten about how John will introduce you. Will he say you’re his friend? Friends don’t usually hold hands and in private it’s fine because the two of you have a certain understanding, but will he do it in public with all these people here, in front of his friends?

You don’t give him a chance and keep your hands clasped to your purse when they finally kiss and everyone makes their way to the tent for drinks and dinner. John doesn’t notice at first, touching your back or your hip. He looks at you oddly though, when you turn away as his palm slides down your arm. You give him a fake smile and now he’s looking at you with concerned eyes when Marcus approaches. 

“John! It’s wonderful to see you.” Marcus reaches his hand out first to John and then to you. 

“Hello,” You smile warmly at him, he seems like a nice guy. “It’s great to finally meet you.” 

“You as well... ?” 

John introduces you and Marcus waves his glowing bride to come over. “This is Julie,” he says proudly and there’s another round of pleasantries. John doesn’t say who you are in relation to him, just your name and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Julie is tall and vibrant with long dark hair and light eyes. She would be intimidating if she wasn’t so nice. “Thank you so much for coming, I’ve been wanting to meet you, John. I’ve heard so much about you.”

John gives a polite nod and you know it’s because he hadn’t any idea she existed before he got that wedding invitation in the mail. 

“You look good, John. You look happy.” Marcus says, briefly looking at you. 

There’s his hand again at your back, pulling you closer. “I am very happy. You look good too. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course.” Julie beams brightly and turns to you. “I love your dress, it’s such a pretty blue.” She tells you, feeling the fabric. 

“You’re magnificent.” You blurt out and everyone laughs wholeheartedly.

“I have to thank you for the juicer, John. It arrived a few days ago.” Marcus says. 

Julie agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, thank you. I’m hoping some of the juices Marcus makes come out a little tastier.”

“Now honey, they’re good for you.”

Both you and John smile at them until they get pulled away to greet more friends and family. There really isn’t a gift table so you put the present down next to the guestbook where you know they’ll find it.

“What is that?” John asks. “I already got them something.”

“It’s a juice cookbook.” You whisper. “I had a feeling they’ll need it.”

John’s smile is soft. “Smart.”

“Should we find our seats?” You ask, looking around. It’s a very small group of people that they invited, mostly looking like Julie. Probably her family, you figure, if Marcus grew up the same way John did. “Do you see any other um… of your friends here?”

“No.” John says thoughtfully, looking around too. “I must be the only one who came.”

“Or the only one Marcus invited.” 

“Maybe.” John tries for your hand and you shift away again, but not slyly enough. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m great!” You close your eyes because John knows you better than that. “Okay, so I don’t think we should hold hands. People will think we’re together.”

“So what if people think that.” His voice is low, in that calculating way where he says exactly what he’s thinking, but careful of how he says it. He doesn't want to scare you, but he’s also challenging you too. 

“I don’t want to have to explain that we’re not. That’s awkward.” 

A waiter comes by with a tray full of champagne flutes and you graciously take one. John shakes his head and you wonder if he’d rather have bourbon or if there’s a reason he’s not drinking.

“But we did come here together.” 

“John, that’s different and you know it.” You take a sip and he’s watching you closely, trying to figure you out. 

“What if I want to be together?”

You glance at a group of young ladies who’ve had their eyes on John the whole night. “What if there’s a gorgeous bridesmaid who wants to go home with you?”

“That would never happen.”

You give him a doubtful look. “Why’s that? I could get a different room for the night.” You’re testing him, but he’s staying calm. There’s a twist in your stomach though because what if he agrees with you? What if he calls your bluff?

He crosses his arms over his chest and you wonder if you crossed a line. “Is there a reason you think I would do that to you?”

Well, fuck. 

You look up at him with wide eyes and hope that he can see how sorry you are, how you let that self doubt speak without thinking about it first. Usually you can quiet down the voice, but somehow it still escapes now and again. 

He does see your regret and moves his arms to circle around you, making you take a step forward and take a deep breath, his cologne calming your insecurities. “I’m sorry.” You tell him quietly. 

“Can we go eat now? Have some fun?” 

You grab his hand and squeeze it tight. You don’t let go for the entire evening.

**

It did turn out to be a fun night. Really fun. The food was good, the people were nice, John actually danced and you didn’t fall into any cake. 

“Why did you tell me you couldn’t dance?” You ask, turning on the lights as you walk into the room. “You’re an excellent dancer. When did you learn?”

“I never did.” John spins you around and hugs you to his chest. “I guess it’s from knowing judo and jiu-jitsu.” 

“Oh, of course. I should have known.” You laugh and start to sway in his arms as he moves. “John, what are we doing?”

“We’re dancing.”

“There’s no music.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” You put your arms around his neck and gaze up at him, proud of yourself that you’re able to make eye contact. “What was your favorite part about today?” 

“Hmm.” John's hands are confident on your back now, his fingers finding some bare skin and stopping there. “It was good to see Marcus.”

“Yeah?” Smiling, you lean back in his arms. “So, you’re saying I was right about coming to the wedding?”

John sighs heavily, but he’s grinning too. “Yes, dear, you were right.” 

The pet name makes you tremble with delight. “That’s music to my ears. I’m not usually right about a lot of things.”

“That’s not true.” John says automatically, always correcting any negative opinion of yourself. “I liked watching you get a massage today too. It was good to see you relax.”

“I could say the same thing. You deserve a million massages.”

  
John’s voice is teasing as he looks at you. “Can I pick who my masseuse is?”

It makes you look away and bury your face in his shoulder before you have enough courage to look at him again. “Do you want to know what my favorite thing about today was?”

“Always.”

“Who am I jealous of again? Libby?” She was an adorable little girl with a big pink dress and auburn pigtails. She stood on John’s feet as he danced them both around. It was probably the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. Watching him twirl her around absolutely sealed the deal if it wasn’t already before. 

“Yes, Libby. And Nana.” He also danced with Julie’s grandma a few times, who had to keep her walker nearby until she knew John wouldn’t drop her. “You might have some competition.”

“Oh damn,” You breathe out, threading your fingers through his hair. “I need to step up my game.” 

John agrees and glances down. “Did I tell you how pretty that dress is?”

“Well, no Mr. Wick, I don’t believe you did. Do you like it?”

He traces little circles along your arms with his fingertips and it makes you shiver. “You could be wearing a trash bag and I would like it.”

You laugh lightly. “Carla would _so_ not approve. And you look very handsome tonight, did I tell you that?” Although you think he looks handsome every day. 

Your compliment surprises him. Usually you’re too shy to say such things and don’t want to encourage him either. “Thank you. It’s a new suit.”

Gasping, you start to inspect the material. “You mean there’s never been blood on it before?”

“Never.” His eyes trace down your face, stopping at your mouth. 

“That reminds me, I have a work question for you.”

“Now?”

“Mmhm.”

“Go ahead.” 

“Are assassins good kissers?”

He immediately lifts his eyes in shock. “What?”

“I mean, I’ve been wondering. I could ask Marcus if he knows anyone…” You squeal when John’s fingers start tickling and you leap on the bed for safety, stretching out on your back and kicking off your shoes. He follows and leans over you, with a hand on your hip and his brown eyes focused. 

“Or I could ask Jimmy if he knows any other assassins…” You joke again and John just shakes his head in amusement. 

“Are you sure you want to find out?”

You look up at him and nod, not saying anything. 

“You know this will be the start of something, right?”

You nod again. 

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.” You tell him softly.

“Because once this happens I probably won’t be able to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He’s leaning down now and… wait, what exactly did he mean?

“Wait.” You push on his shoulder and he pauses patiently. “You won’t be able to stop?”

“What? Oh no, not that.” He brushes his nose along yours. “I just meant I’m gonna wanna kiss you every day after this.”

“Ah.” You're breathless. “Okay.”

You finally let your eyes close and his lips are so gentle over yours in the sweetest kiss. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this is pure perfection. There’s nothing that will ever compare to John’s mouth, hot and slow, moving with intent to taste you. His hand goes to your neck, angling you slightly and you feel his tongue slip next to yours and you can’t help the moan of pleasure that fills the room. The sound makes you stop and at first you’re embarrassed, but he just goes in harder, deeper like he can’t hold back either and you let him, you want him so badly that you open up and give in and it feels so fucking good.

He pulls away to check on you but he’s breathing heavily. “Is this okay?”

You push his hair back so you can see his face and scratch your fingers through his beard. “Assassins _are_ good kissers.”

He just smiles before leaning down again, hungry for you this time, almost desperate as his mouth presses at yours and now it’s John who lets out a low whimper. 

You feel flushed as you pull away and he chases your lips. “Should we stop?”

“Stop?” His eyes fill with worry.

“This dress isn’t that comfortable.”

“Oh.” He kisses you again. And again. “Yeah, okay.”

You both sit up slowly, dizzy with affection and just sit on the bed for a moment, gathering your thoughts. John watches as you get up and walk around the bed to stand with your back in front of him.

“Can you unzip my dress?”

“Sure.” He gets to his feet as the zipper comes down and he takes the opportunity to slide his hand across your skin that’s becoming exposed. His lips meet your shoulder, then move up your neck with heated kisses. All you can do is close your eyes and try to keep your legs straight, your knees becoming shaky as his teeth nip and play at your earlobe. 

“I need to take a shower.” It comes out weak and you let him keep kissing you, even turning your head so he can have better access. 

“Okay.” He doesn’t move except for his mouth. “Would you like any company?”

That makes you turn around and give a surprised laugh. “I think you need to take a cold shower.” You glance down. “Alone.”

“But that’s not fun.”

You grin, cheekily. “Looks like a lot of fun to me.”

He practically makes a growling noise and kisses you again. “I could kiss you all night.”

“Don’t tempt me.” You push at his shoulder and he finally takes a step back. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll control myself.” He composes himself, taking a deep breath and brushing his hair back with both hands. 

You take his tie and pull on it, making him lean towards you and meet his lips quickly. “I could kiss you all night too, okay? But let me get out of this dress first.”

“Are there any more zippers you need help with?” 

You laugh and push him again so he sits on the bed and you run a finger over his lips. “Behave.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Not even a shower is enough to calm your nerves but it does wake you up a little. The last thing you want is to fall asleep mid makeout session with John. It was a perfect day, but it was long too and your feet hurt from the new shoes. Quickly, you finish up and wish you had brought something a little sexier to sleep in rather than the usual shorts and tank top, but it’ll have to do. 

John’s eyes light up as you crawl on the bed and along his body, laying down next to him. He’s just in an undershirt and boxers now and you can see that the few minutes away from each other has calmed him down. 

“Are you going to take a shower?”  
  


He turns on his side, his hand cradling your cheek. “Are you going to fall asleep?”

You try not to yawn. “... no.”

“Hmm.” He kisses you softly. “I think that’s a yes.”

“I promise I’ll stay awake.”

He gives you a doubtful look but gets up anyway. “If you fall asleep I’m kissing you until you wake up.”

You snuggle down into the pillows and smile at him. “Like sleeping beauty?” 

“I don’t think I’m any prince charming.” He replies, getting a towel and his toothbrush. “But yeah, if that’s what it takes.”

“You’re my charming assassin, how about that?”

Leaning over, his hair is falling in his eyes and he gives you a quick kiss. “I like it.”

You don’t mean to but you doze off a little and startle when he gets back into bed, damp and fresh with just pajama pants and no shirt. “You’re tempting me…” You murmur, moving your head to his chest and try not to stare at the long jagged scar sliced into his skin. 

“My apologies.” He finds your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your open palm and shifts to his side. “I need to change my answer.”

You kiss him a few times before giving him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“When you asked about my favorite part of the day.” His eyes travel up and down your face. “This is definitely it.”

“Me too. Why did you take so long to kiss me?”

“Excuse me?” He deadpans. “Don’t tell me I missed a hint like a month ago or something.”

“I’m just kidding.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he’s almost laying on top of you. “Thank you for being patient.”

His nose skims down your neck, his huge hands kneading your arms. “Thank you for trusting me. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“I’ve always trusted you, John. It just took some time to trust myself.”

He nods and his eyes are soft when he pulls back to look at you. “I know. It’s one of the things I like most about you. Watching your journey so far… it’s been inspiring.”

“Really? Inspiring?” You find it to be an interesting choice of word for him to use. 

“Yeah. It’s like every day you find something new to be happy about.”

You run your hand down his chest, stopping at his stomach which is surprisingly soft with hard muscle right underneath. “Were you happy before you met me?”

He doesn’t answer at first and it makes you think you’ve said something wrong. “I was living.”

“And now?”

John caresses down your ear and runs his thumb over your lip. “And now I’m very happy to live.”

“Because you found Pooch?” 

He smiles, almost lovingly. “He’s part of it, yes.”

You scoot closer and tangle your legs with his. “Technically I found Pooch.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

“Hmm.” You get comfortable and trail a fingertip over the scar on his chest. “I think you said something about kissing me all night?”

It becomes obvious that you don’t have to ask twice because his mouth is urgent and heated but then he suddenly starts to slow down, the kisses deeper and longer and his weight is heavy on top of you but it feels amazing and you sink into the bed.

You have to keep yourself from overthinking when his lips move over your neck and across your collarbone, not stopping there. He kisses down the middle of your tank top and back up a bare arm, his beard ticking your skin and you let out a moan when he reaches your mouth again. 

“Should we stop?”

You open your eyes and look at him like he’s crazy. “Are you serious right now?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, teasing and you pull him down again. 

You both have swollen lips in the morning. 

**

The next day is sunny and bright, just like your mood and you can’t stop smiling. John drags you out of bed to have coffee on the beach and watch the sunrise. It couldn’t be more perfect and the butterflies in your stomach just won’t quit every time he kisses you, looks at you, touches you... pretty much, all the time. 

For lunch you both meet Marcus and Julie for a quick bite because they have family they need to see off, but you and Julie could tell it meant a lot to the guys. When she goes to the restroom you join her and then accidentally get stuck at the bar so they can have some time alone to catch up. Julie is still glowing and you ask a ton of questions about how she and Marcus met, how he proposed, and tried to hint around if she knew about his job but she never mentions that her new husband being an assassin so you don’t bring it up either. 

The drive home is long and you fall asleep. When you get into town you stir awake and John teases about keeping you up too late. You apologize profusely for leaving him to drive all that way without anyone to talk with but John just gives you small, slow kisses at a red light. 

When he turns into your apartment complex you’re not too sure what to do. You don’t want the day to end just yet. Anticipation starts to build when John parks the car instead of just pulling up to the main door. He seems nervous too, or at least thinking about something important. 

You slowly unbuckle your seatbelt and awkwardly clear your throat. “So um…”

“Do you work tomorrow?” John asks.

“Yeah, I have the midday shift. I have to be there at eleven. What about you?”

“Nothing’s come up, but you never know.”

“Right.” You look anywhere but John’s eyes. “So uh… do you want to come up for awhile?”

John tilts his head and grabs your hand. “Wouldn’t this be about time you need some space?”

He’s absolutely right and a part of the reason you fell asleep in the car. Being with John is exhausting. It’s fun and exciting and there’s no one you’d rather be around but… being around him also makes you nervous, flustered, and the constant tingles in your stomach makes you tired. Your body is on an emotional rollercoaster, but it seems only to be going higher and higher, and some time away from John might make it come down a little. 

“No, I’m fine.” You lie. 

John’s searching your face for a sign that you’re actually okay and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Can I spend the night?”

A whole night? You were prepared for a few hours but an entire night is different. You also can’t resist him either, especially with that hopeful expression on his handsome face. 

“I was going to prep for my classes and look through my books.” You tell him, not knowing what he would do while you’re busy. “I could cook us some pasta for dinner?”

“That sounds great.”

“Really?” You start to smile, the idea of spending extra time with him becoming more and more welcoming. You’re surprised that he doesn’t want to be alone or that he’s not sick of you yet, so you give him one last out. “Don’t you have to get Pooch?”

John bites his lip. “I kinda told Cassey’s dad I’d be home tomorrow.”

That makes you laugh. “Did you have big plans for tonight, Mr. Wick?”

“I was… hoping.”

You give him a quick kiss and get out of the car, your body a bundle of nerves. Is your place a mess? What’s he going to do all evening? He really wants to spend another night together? Does he not remember how small your apartment is?

It takes only one trip with all of your bags to get upstairs and John just brings his small leather duffle, keeping his suit in the trunk. Questions are still flowing through your mind when you unlock the door and put all of your stuff on the bed. John seems comfortable enough and gets himself situated, taking off his jacket and shoes, putting his things in a corner of your bedroom. 

“Hey, you know what I just realized?” You ask, starting up your computer at the kitchen table. 

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t see you with a gun once this weekend. Did you not bring one?”

John lifts the back of his shirt and out comes a small pistol. Then he puts his foot on the coffee table and takes out a knife from a holster around his ankle.

“Oh. Never mind.” You feel stupid and wonder what kind of trouble John thought he’d run into at a wedding. 

“It’s just a habit.” He tells you, giving you a quick kiss. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head and sit down. “No. The opposite actually. What if I wanted to learn how to use one someday?”

John takes a seat too and you suddenly realize that you love this. You love having him here. Nothing to do, no one else to talk to, nowhere to go… it’s nice. The thought makes you relax a little. Maybe you don’t need much space from him. 

“I could teach you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, if that’s something you wanted.”

It’s an idea to think about. At least you’d be able to learn about something John uses a lot. “I guess we’ll have to see. Do you want to watch TV or something while I look at my classes? Then we can make dinner if you want.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, okay?” He stands up and leans over to kiss you again. “Do your thing. I’m just happy to be with you.”

A lump forms at the back of your throat and you try to swallow it down. You can’t say anything so you just smile and kiss him back. It still amazes you how he can make you so emotional with just a few words. You’ve never experienced such an extreme amount of happiness enough to make you want to cry. 

John moves to the couch and you get to making a schedule of your classes only for him to come back into the kitchen a few minutes later. 

“What’s this?” He’s holding the book you ordered a few days ago that you left on the coffee table. 

“Um.” You cross your arms and try to shrink into the chair. “I bought it for you but then I thought you probably wouldn’t want it so I never gave it to you.”

It’s a Complete Guide to Pitbulls book and John is staring at it, holding it like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. You don’t think many people go out of their way for John because he leans over you again, dark hair falling in his eyes and kisses you breathless. He tastes so incredible and all you want to do is get closer to him. His fingers press at your throat as his tongue slips next to yours and thank goodness you’re sitting down. You move your hands to his beard and catch him when he pulls away, wanting every kiss he’s willing to give right now.

“I’m sorry for distracting you.” He says, when you finally let him go.

“I like your distractions.” You think back to the Continental when you were with John at the hotel. You were so scared to distract him, but you realize that maybe you didn’t at all now that you're on the other side of it. It’s comforting that he’s here and you think maybe he felt the same way. 

He kisses you and gazes at the book again.

“What’s a girl have to do for you to look at me like that?” You laugh and John just gives you a sweet smile before heading to the couch. 

Now being able to focus, you get done with school prep quickly and check your email if there’s anything from work, but nothing important that can’t wait. Not like the gorgeous man sitting in your living room. 

You curl up on the sofa next to him and lean on his shoulder. Whatever’s in the book is intriguing to him and you peek at the pages but just see pictures of a dog that looks like Pooch. He flips the book shut though and you ask if he’s hungry.

He looks at your mouth. “Yes.”

Someone’s phone beeps and it’s John’s so you get up to start dinner. When he doesn’t follow you ask if everything’s okay.

Instead of answering you hear your phone buzz and look at John quizzingly before checking it. 

There are five pictures from the wedding. Two of them are you and John dancing, one of you staring at John as he’s looking at something in the distance, another one of John smelling your hair as you’re laughing and the last is of John, Libby, Nana and you in a group shot. 

“Marcus says hi.” 

“Hi.” You tell your phone weakly. John is silent too, still looking at his screen.

You finally blink and put your phone down on the table. Actually being able to see yourself with John… it makes it more real somehow. It makes you scared to lose him, realizing how integrated he is in your life, but you force the thought away. You’re not letting the doubt overcome you now. You just want to enjoy the moment. 

“That was nice of Marcus to send you those.”

John walks into the kitchen and pulls you into a hug. “Yeah. It was.”

“You okay?”

He nods and caresses down your shoulders and up your back. “Yeah. I just like having you in my arms. I love touching your skin. Can’t get enough.”

You tilt your chin and hint for a kiss, which he gladly gives. It’s about time for him to get hungry though so you ask if he can make a salad while you get the pasta and sauce. Having him with you to help cook dinner is a lot more fun with flirting and kissing every few minutes and you have to take a second to relish in the moment. 

John Wick making dinner with you. Life is really fucking good right now.

The food is done quickly and you’re both tired after the long weekend so the bed is calling soon after you’re done eating. Both of you wash up and get dressed in pajamas, getting comfortable on the bed.

You cuddle up to him and he settles back into the pillows, wrapping an arm around you. “So…”

Uh oh.

“Yes?” You urge him to continue. 

“We went to the wedding together.”

“Yes?” You’re not sure where he’s going with this.

“We came back together.”

“Yes?”

“So that would mean…. That we’re together?”

You think about it for a second. “Yes.”

A pleased smile forms on John’s lips. “Okay.”

“Are you happy?” You ask him. 

“You... “ He starts slowly and holds your hand. “You make me want to be a better man. I’m very happy.”

There’s that prick at the back of your throat again. Hopefully soon you’ll get used to him talking like this. You take a deep breath and turn off all the lights. “Can you do one thing for me?”

“What’s that?”

You hesitate but you also really want to do this for him. And yourself. “Take off your shirt and pants, keep on the boxers and don’t get any ideas.”

It’s too dark to tell if John is surprised or not but after a few seconds, he does what you want.

“Can you be the small spoon for a while?” You ask him. Quietly, you’re slipping out of your tank top and shorts leaving on just your panties. 

You press your bare chest up against his naked back and wrap your arms around his waist. 

He whimpers, tangling his legs with yours and grabs at your hands, your fingers stroking through his happy trail. 

“This okay?” You ask, not knowing if it’s too much. 

John exhales loudly, almost shuddering against your body. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, John. You make me happy to be living too.” You’ve certainly come a long way from when you first met him. Sitting up a little, you lean over so you can give him a kiss and then lay back down behind him. You wish you could see his face but you move your hand over his heart and the quick beats are enough for you to finally trust that he is very happy indeed. 

TBC

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Daydreaming at work seems to be a problem. You can’t get the thought of John out of your mind. His hands. His lips. His face. His body. The ever-constant sweet gestures, the affectionate words he whispers, how special he makes you feel… 

John Wick, _your boyfriend_ , is becoming a problem. 

It's really weird to have such a wonderful problem.

Your thoughts that were consumed with darkness are now light. The hollow, empty feeling you once carried is suddenly heavy with a fullness that you never knew could exist. At first you were afraid that you were letting John do all the work, build that confidence which was shattered over time, but you realize that he’s just speeding up the process and helping you, not doing it for you. 

Pushing him away for so long built up your strength and you don’t feel dependent on him, like you did with grandma and that’s a relief. You can make your own decisions now, even if it might take longer than normal but it’s happening. The growth is still progressing every day. He’s starting to break down your wall but at the same time, you’re breaking his too. 

Currently, you’re thinking about this morning and John waking up next to you in bed, his warm kisses down your spine as you hugged a pillow modestly to your chest. He wouldn’t stop tracing his fingers all around your naked back, his eyes watching so intently, as if he couldn’t believe that you were letting him touch you like this. You only started to squirm when his calloused hand dipped lower towards your hip, slipping under the band of your panties and stroking the skin there for a few minutes before you had to get up for the day.

Being naked in John’s arms might be your new favorite thing. 

“So then this alien started talking to me, ya know? Like, wanted the sandwich my mom made for lunch. Can you believe that? Like, get your own sandwich alien dude.”

You blink back to reality. “What?”

Sam is looking at you with bored eyes. “I’ve been here for five minutes. Why do you look like a little kid on Christmas morning?”

“Oh hey!” You feel yourself start to flush. “How’s it going?”

Now he’s narrowing his eyes at you. He’s very observant for a teenager. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing.”

He instantly pouts. “Seriously?” It seems like you hurt his feelings. “You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“Ugh fine, but it’s dumb.” Are you actually going to say this out loud? You haven’t even told Beth yet, and now you’re about to tell Sam that you have a boyfriend. That John Wick is your boyfriend. “John and I went to the wedding this weekend…”

Sam nods, he knew about the wedding pretty much the day you decided to go. He grabs a towel and spray bottle, starting to clean around the register. “Did you have fun?”

“A lot of fun and we’re kinda... together now. Officially.”

Sam stops cleaning and doesn’t look at you. “Oh.”

You’re not sure what to make of his reaction, but you’re disappointed that he’s not a little excited for you. “See, I told you it was dumb. Nothing for me to be acting so stupid about.”

“It’s not stupid… I just….” He sighs loudly and kicks his backpack under the counter, obviously not wanting to tell you something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, concerned. Maybe he broke up with his girlfriend and doesn’t want to hear about your new relationship?

He’s still looking down when he finally talks, trying to get it all out quickly in one breath. “I don’t like John. I know you had a black eye a few weeks ago and I’m still trying to figure out how to kick his ass.”  
  


All you can do is stare and belt out a laugh, but then you feel bad. “Sam, John did not give me a black eye. He would never hurt me. Why would you think that?”

“Why would you try to cover it up then, huh?” He stands to his full height and puts his hands on his boney hips. “I saw your makeup smudge and I know he’s the only one you’ve been hanging out with. I’m telling Carla if you don’t stop seeing him. Or my mom. She’s way scarier.”

You’re completely caught off guard and don’t know where to start. Luckily, a customer comes in so you can think while Sam cashes her out. When she leaves you look at Sam with very serious, pleading eyes. “Okay, yes, I did have a black eye and yes, I tried to hide it.”

Sam’s face turns a bright red and his fists pound on the counter. “Me and my friends are so kicking his ass….”

“No one is kicking anyone’s ass.” If anything, John would annihilate those kids. “John did not give me a black eye. My ex boyfriend _who I put in jail for abuse_ got out and paid me a visit. Therefore, I got a black eye. And do you know who came to my rescue? John.” 

“Yeah right.” Sam crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re making that up.”

You close your eyes and rub your forehead. “I promise you that I’m not making it up.”

“Prove it then,” Sam smirks and he’s pretty cute, trying to be threatening with his big blue eyes and mop of curly brown hair. 

“How am I supposed to do that? Do you want me to call John right now?”

“No, like he’d ever admit it.”

You sigh in frustration and get your phone out anyway. There are two missed texts from John and it makes you smile. The first one says that he misses you and the second one is heart emoji. 

“Hello?” Sam waves at you. “Did you forget I was here again?”

“Right, sorry.” You pull up the email from Jimmy that he sent a few days ago with the police report attached to it, then hand your phone over to Sam so he can read it himself. 

“.... oh.”

“And?”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, handing your phone back. He’s adorable. 

“It’s fine, you were just looking out for me. John really is a nice guy. He wouldn't hurt a fl--” Okay, so maybe he does kill people for a living. You clear your throat and smile at Sam. “Thank you. I’ve never had someone to threaten their mom on me before.”

“Pssh, she would’ve taken out John too.”

“I’m sure she would have.” You tell him and you want to ruffle his hair, but you don’t think a seventeen year old would appreciate that. 

Sam starts to clean again now that he knows you’re not in immediate danger. “So this Max guy…?”  
  


“John took care of him.” You said it without thinking, regretting it because you know Sam will ask. 

“How?”

“Uh…” You don’t want to lie but you can’t exactly tell the truth either. “John beat him up pretty good. Jimmy, Officer Saunders, arrested him.” Just not in that order. 

“So, John’s a good guy. I mean, he’s pretty intimidating but I didn’t think he’d hit you. I guess I was in shock.” Sam explains. “I should’ve asked right when I noticed your eye but I didn’t know what to do. I’m glad I was wrong.” 

“Me too.” You smile reassuringly at him. “How’re your classes? Did you have a good first day?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam shrugs. “My chem teacher is pretty cool and I think I might try out for baseball.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Do you have your first online class tonight?” He asks. 

“Yep, I think that’ll go okay but I have math tomorrow night and I’m really nervous. I haven’t taken math since high school. I haven’t even been in a classroom for over a decade.”

Sam winks and blows you a kiss. “You just call me with any of those math problems, girl. I got you.”

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes and go to the backroom for your purse. “Sarah’s closing tonight but text me if you need anything, okay? There’s plenty of money in the drawer and you should be fine until she gets here.” He gives you a wave and you hope he doesn’t forget to clean the bathroom like he’s supposed to. 

Anticipation flutters in your stomach as you drive home. Everything in your life is so new. A promotion, school, and a boyfriend. 

Speaking of your boyfriend, he just text you a set of numbers. 

_59035_

_The keycode to the house whenever you want to come over._

_Even if I’m not here_

Smiling to yourself, you call him when you get home. “Did you just give me a ‘key’ to your house? That’s a very big step, just so you know.”

“I know.” John chuckles on the other side of the phone. “And hi, honey, how are you?”

You raise your eyebrow at the term of endearment but say nothing about it. “I’m okay, just getting all set up for class. How was your day?”

“It was… interesting.” He answers, and you can hear someone close a door in the background. 

“Sorry, are you home? I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“I’m home,” John changes to a lower tone. “Jimmy is here… he needs help with something.”

“Oh.” That’s not good. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” John says slowly, that unwavering and frightful assassin voice coming through. “Yeah. It will be.”

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of this conversation. “Um… that’s good. I don’t think I can do anything to help, but you’d let me know, right?”

“Yes, I’d let you know,” John replies, and you can practically hear him smile at your offer, his tone changing back to normal. “Can you stop by the house before your class tomorrow night? I’d like to see you.”

“Just see me, huh?” You tease lightly. 

“I think the other things that I would like are implied.”

“Like what?”

“You know exactly what.”

It’s hard not to laugh. “You can’t say you want to kiss me in front of Jimmy?”

“I very much want to kiss you.”

“Jimmy already left, didn’t he?” You guess.

“Yeah.”

You laugh and tell John that you’ll see him tomorrow. 

“You’ll let me know how your class goes tonight?”

“Sure, it should be fine.”

It wasn’t exactly fine, but it could have been worse. There are a lot of papers you’ll have to write and projects to do, but not too many tests and you can listen to a recording of the class at any time. The teacher seems nice enough, but you won’t really know what you’ve gotten yourself into until after he grades your first assignment. Then maybe you’ll have a better understanding of how this works. School is like riding a bicycle, right? It’ll all come back to you… eventually. 

John sends you encouraging texts with heart emojis and kissing emojis all night. For a man his age and tough exterior to send you hearts… it makes you melt. 

The next day at work goes by quickly and you drive over to John’s house about an hour before class. You figure that you can walk to campus and leave your car at John’s so parking won’t be an issue. You haven’t seen him in two whole days and you miss him terribly. It’s becoming more and more evident that you’re becoming attached.

With the way he pulls you in for a deep kiss, it seems like you might not be the only one. 

“Hi honey.” He greets when both of you finally separate. You’re thankful that there are no neighbors around to have a show of John kissing you passionately in the driveway.

“Hi.” You smile, a little dazed. He steers you towards the front of the house with an arm around your waist, and Pooch comes running out to greet you too. Stopping just outside, you motion for John to go in without you. “I want to try my keycode.” You tell him, closing the door.

“Do you remember what it is?” 

“Can you just…” You scowl and give him a dirty look while he laughs. The numbers that you punch in work and the door opens. 

He beams at you and holds out his arms. “You did it!”

“Does this mean I have to give you a key to my place?” You ask, pushing past him and going to the kitchen, putting your purse and textbook down on the counter. 

“Not if you don’t want to.” John slowly walks up behind you, unsure how to answer your question. 

You turn around and have a key in your hand. “I think I want to.” Biting your lip, you give it to him and watch as he holds it. “I mean, you break in all the time anyway.”

His mouth drops open. “I haven’t broken in for a few months.”

“Oh, my mistake.” You put your arms around his shoulders and tug him down for a kiss. “You better text me before using that.”

“Or you’ll beat me with a baseball bat?”

“Exactly.”

John laughs, “I’ll remember that.” The key is set on the counter so he can give you his full attention, circling his arms around you and pulling you close. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“Do you work tomorrow? Can you spend the night?”

“John…” You’re tempted. But is it too much? God, you really want to. “I don’t have any clothes here.”

“And that’s a problem because….?”

You knew that sleeping topless with him last weekend would start something. “It’s not a problem. I just… maybe, okay? Let me get through this class first.”

He nods and pushes your hair away from your neck, sliding his fingers across your skin. “You should keep some clothes here. I can clear out some space in my closet.”

Laughing, you sit on the chair at the counter. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to have any clothes here.”

“That works too.” He kisses you and goes to the fridge. “Are you hungry? Want something to eat before you go?”

“No.” You mindlessly pat your stomach. “I’m nervous.”

“Okay.” John’s beginning to understand how your anxiety works. He walks over to rub up and down your back in the most comforting way. “Maybe after you’re done. Can I walk you to class?”

You would really like that and fight the urge to tell him yes. “I want to do this on my own.” He looks down, clearly disappointed, and you gently tuck his hair away from his eyes. “But maybe next time?” 

“Do you remember where the room is?”

“Yes, _honey,_ I remember.” You smirk playfully, but now you understand the fun in pet names, especially as John’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. 

He smiles and kisses you again and… yeah, you’re definitely spending the night. 

**

“What’s wrong?”

Two hours later you use the keycode and walk past John in the kitchen only to collapse on his couch. Pooch puts his head in your lap and you scratch behind his ears, letting your eyes fall shut and take a deep breath. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” John asks again, and you muster up the energy to reply so he stops worrying. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Was it horrible?”

“No…” You let your purse and book fall to the floor and he picks them up for you, putting them on the coffee table. He lifts your feet, taking off your shoes, and tosses them to the side. 

“Are you sure?” John pushes Pooch away so he can pull your legs up on the couch, massaging up and down your jeans with warm hands. 

“No.” You rub your temples. “Do you have any wine?”

John grimaces as he gets up, knowing it must be bad. He returns with a glass for you but nothing for himself. You take a sip and sigh loudly as he inserts himself next to you, sitting close and watching patiently until you’re ready to talk. 

“I was definitely the oldest one there and I felt like everyone was laughing at me.” 

John takes a few seconds to think and then responds, his voice low. “Were people laughing at you?”

You sigh again and rest your head against the back of the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

“Good because I would kill them.”

He’s kidding around, but it does make you smile. 

“I’m sure no one was laughing.” He reassures you. “How was the teacher?”

You shrug, just like Sam did this afternoon. You feel like a teenager, lost and indifferent at the same time. “He’s fine. Typical nerd old guy.”

“Old guy, huh?”

Taking a sip of wine, you avoid eye contact. Will you ever learn to not put your foot in your mouth? “I just meant… older.”

“Like my age?”

“You are not old, John. You’re not even that much older than me.” 

He leans back and stops touching you. “And how would you know that?”

“I can tell.” You uncross your legs to sit next to him, stroking your fingers down his arm. “Besides, I’m very mature for my age. I had to grow up fast, remember? Anyone younger than you would probably drive me crazy.”

“Is that... “ John isn’t looking at you and it makes nerves begin to pulsate all over your body. “Is that something you might want to explore?”

“What do you mean?”

“You kind of just got your life together. You haven’t experienced much. That includes dating, right?”

Oh, how the tables have turned. “You want me to date other guys?”

“No.” He says, finally looking at you. “But I want you to have the experiences you missed out on.”

“Okay…” You’ve never seen an insecure side of John before. It isn’t fitting at all, although you can also see where he’s coming from. “But why can't I experience them with you?”

John blinks and starts to nod slowly. “I guess that’s true.”

You smile and kiss his cheek, his beard tickling your nose. “Can we start with making out at my school? I swear those bitches were laughing at me and I want to make them jealous.”

He chuckles and takes the glass of wine from you. “I bet you're hungry and that’s why you’re in a bad mood. You need to eat.”

“Fine.” You can’t help but pout because he’s probably right. The math book on the coffee table is daunting as you get up. “Do you know how to do fractions?”

“I know that if you don’t eat a fraction of this sandwich you’ll get hangry.”

“Not helpful.” You tell him, sliding on the seat at the counter. “How’s Jimmy doing? Is he any kind of trouble?”

John fixes you a plate but he must have already had dinner because he sits next to you, your wine glass in the middle so he can take a sip too. “I don’t know. His unit is onto something big. He might need my help.”

“Yeah? Too big for the police to handle?”

“Too dangerous,” John says. “It’d be easier if I just got the job done.”

Your eyes grow wide but it doesn’t stop you from devouring some food. “Well if it’s too dangerous for the police how could you possibly do it alone?”

He pushes his hair back and his voice is low again. “It wouldn’t be dangerous for me. They wouldn’t know I’m coming.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.” You point a carrot at him and he steals one from your plate. “I have three questions.”

“Okay.”

“Is it in town? Can you tell me when it’s happening?”

“Yes and yes. Was there a third question?”

“Probably but I haven’t thought of it yet.”

John laughs softly. “Okay, I’ll do my best to answer any questions I can.”

“Thank you.” You take one last sip of wine. “Do you want to go to bed?”

A very pleased smile spreads on John’s lips. “You’re staying over?” 

“How could I say no to this face?” You tuck his hair away from his eyes. He’s so handsome you could stare at him forever and every second you’re starting to fall harder for him. 

“You mean old face.” He teases, getting up and clearing your dishes. 

“Oh my god, how are you the one being dramatic right now?” 

He laughs as Pooch goes outside. “I don’t know, you bring it out of me.”

“Well, just so we’re very clear… you’re the only one I want to be with and I care about you very much.” Your mouth is suddenly dry, not used to saying these things or admitting them out loud. “I may have a hard time telling or showing you, but I promise I’m working on it.”

“I appreciate that.” John leans over the counter to give you a kiss. “And I can’t wait to have some new experiences with you.”

“You know… I’ve never had a hickey. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

The surprised expression on his face is enough to tell you that he is very much interested. You give him a playful wink and head upstairs to wash up while he finishes cleaning the kitchen. You’re not surprised when you hear his footsteps only a few seconds later, however, he’s usually very light on his feet so it makes you grin that he’s so eager. You wish he wasn’t so fast because now he gets to see you creep into his bedroom in only your panties and bra, having left your clothes in the guest bathroom. Quickly, you turn off the main light so the room is dim as you jump into bed beside him. 

John meets you with a kiss and a quiet moan as his hands slide all over your bare skin, squeezing and rubbing everywhere he can reach. His hands pause at your bra clasp and you just keep kissing him, not stopping him but not saying yes either. He moves down instead and rests his palms at your lower back. 

You press your lips down his neck and this is the first time you’re exploring his body, always careful to keep an imagery line. But he’s becoming irresistible and you can’t stop, not really being able to think as your teeth nip at his collarbone, sucking back up his neck and your tongue tasting every inch of his mouth. 

He pulls away first and it looks like he’s in pain, and you realize a part of him is hurting.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I just need a second.”

“Sorry.” You’re not really and your smug grin shows it. You move to lay on your stomach and watch as he calms himself down. It’s turning you on, seeing his chest heave with arousal and a flush spread all over his upper body. You kiss the cross tattoo on his shoulder and continue to wait. 

“So, this hickey…” His hand slides down your back again, first under your bra strap and then all the way down your hip, under the strap there too. 

“It has to be someplace where no one can see it.” 

John bites his lip and lets out a small groan. “I can think of so many places.” 

“I can’t think at all right now.” You admit softly.

“Good, I just want you to enjoy this.” He lays you back on the bed and starts at your jaw, pressing a few light kisses there, turning your chin so he can move down further to your collarbone where he stays for the next couple of minutes. His mouth is hot but gentle, his tongue soothing after every nibble. You let yourself take a breath, trying to relax and focus solely on John. You’ve never felt safer. Never felt this wanted ever before. 

It’s over too fast but you can feel the sensitive patch of skin which you’re sure will have a small bruise. You can’t wait to see it, to press your fingers there and remind yourself of this man who can’t keep his hands off of you. 

He’s breathing heavily and he’s very squirmy as you put your head on his chest. 

“Do assassins like hickeys too?”

John laughs and spreads his arms out on the bed. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

“I don’t think I have enough patience to stay in one spot.” Your lips move to his chest, pressing along the worst of the scars. He shudders as you lick over one of his nipples and honestly, you can’t stand it anymore. You reach over him to turn off the light, flooding the room in darkness. 

The bra comes off and you lay on his chest as you continue to kiss him, loving the feeling of his skin on yours. It doesn’t take much effort to drag your teeth down his stomach, stopping at his appendix scar. You’re at a perfect angle for your nipples to skim his thighs and it’s not long before he stiffens and whispers _fuck_ loudly almost as if…

“Um… did that just happen?” 

“It’s been a really long time.” He doesn’t seem embarrassed at all, he sounds completely blissed out. 

You move back up his body and lie next to him. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Too much. I have to get cleaned up.”

“Okay.” You don’t mention that your panties are damp. It’s been a long time for you too and you’re debating if you want to finish or if this is enough for right now. All you can think about are his long fingers and how amazing they would feel in and around certain places. You’re pretty sure you’d have to encourage him or at least give him an okay, but you freeze and the moment passes. Next time though… you’ll be ready to get what you want.

He goes to wash up and you use the restroom after him, the lights still low so you feel comfortable staying topless. It’s a little different though when John cuddles behind your back and he doesn’t know where to put his hand. 

You help him out and cover his arm with yours, holding his hand over your stomach. His lips won’t stop moving along your neck and across your shoulders, his beard starting to become a familiar and pleasant tickle. It feels so good. “I could get used to this.”

John pauses and you feel him smile against your skin. “Yeah? Does that mean you’re staying tomorrow night too?”

“I can’t, I have homework to do now. I’m a very busy lady.” How far you’ve come from working like a zombie and sleeping all day. 

“You can use my office. I’ll even bring you coffee whenever you want.” 

With a sudden surge of confidence you turn in his arms and rest your head a few inches away from him. “That’s very tempting, Mr. Wick.”

“Mmm. You’re very tempting.” He hugs you close, his chest to yours and his wide hands rubbing all over your naked back. 

You kiss him for his kind words. “Do you have to meet with Jimmy tomorrow?” 

“No, not tomorrow. Do you have to work?”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you. Sam wanted to beat you up but I talked him out of it.”

John pulls back a little. “What? Why?”

You start to absentmindedly thread your fingers through John’s chest hair. “He noticed that I had a black eye a few weeks ago and thought you gave it to me.” 

“Did you tell him what actually happened?”

“I told him about Max, yes. And that you took care of it.”

John grows silent and you wonder what he’s thinking. “How could he tell about your eye?”

“I guess some of my makeup rubbed off and he saw me fix it.” 

“Hmm.”

“What is it?”

“Did you notice that Sam wore long sleeves and pants all summer long?”

You try to remember. Even when he was talking about going to his pool parties he was always wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He didn’t even want some of the free t-shirts from work. “I guess now that you say that… yeah, he did.”

“Hmm.” John murmurs again. “Interesting.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” You wonder what could be the problem. “Maybe he has a skin rash or something. You know how teenagers are.” 

“Actually I have no idea how they are.” John yawns and kisses your forehead. “That’s cute that he wanted to beat me up though.” He does not sound amused at all. 

“I know. He was so protective. It was super sweet.” 

John doesn’t say anything and you take his silence for being offended because you can’t see his face. 

“You know he’s seventeen, right? I’m not a cougar or a sugar mama or a crazy pedophile.”

“Logically I know all of this.” 

“Good.” You’re starting to like a jealous John Wick and lean up to give him a kiss goodnight. “Now I need to dream about fractions so hopefully I wake up understanding how they work.”

“You’ll get it, babe. I 100 _percent_ believe in you.”

You snicker against his chest. “Did you just make a math joke?”

“Don’t laugh at me. You made my brain melt.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You move to cradle his head to your chest and you have to move his hair back from your face. “Feel better now?”

“Best pillow ever.” He sighs happily. “Don’t ever leave me.”

You have no intention of ever letting him go. 

**

The next few weeks go about the same. You work Monday through Wednesday, going to class Wednesday evening and spending the night at John’s. You have Thursday and Friday off from work so you spend the days with him, sometimes doing homework in his office or on the couch with Pooch. If it’s nice out you’ll take a walk around the lake holding John’s hand and then head to the grocery store to find something for dinner. 

Sometimes John will have to work and he spends hours down in his basement. You’ve yet to venture down there and wonder what he’s up to. It must be important because when he comes back upstairs he’s usually quiet and it takes a while for him to snap out of it. It reminds you of when he got back to the hotel after that job he took a while ago. How he was in a trance until you gently reminded him of where he was, and now all you have to do is kiss him until you see that spark back in his eye instead of strained concentration. 

You go to class on Friday night and then leave his house Saturday morning before your shift starts at noon. The weekends are hard to be away from him, but it’s busy so time goes by fast. Once Monday rolls around you’re dying to see him and the only reason you look forward to math class every week is that you finally get to go over to his house. 

Usually John can’t handle it so he’ll surprise you at the gas station or text you that he’s coming over to “see if his key works” or always finding some excuse to see you. 

If he spends the night at your place or you spend the night at his, you’re usually topless and kiss him until he can’t take it anymore and makes a mess still without you even touching him. For some reason, you’re still too shy to ask anything of him yet but you figure that you’re going at your own pace and what you feel comfortable with, so you’re trying not to freak out that he’ll leave you for moving too slow.

John is at your apartment watching TV and you’re cranky. You have an English paper due in two days, those girls in your math class still giggle every time they pass you, and Halloween is tomorrow night. You hate Halloween. 

“Why do you hate Halloween? Did something happen when you were a kid?”

“No. I don’t think so.” You don’t even remember any holidays from your childhood because you’ve blocked them all out. “All the freaks come around and work is stressful. It’s only me and Sam working and I just get nervous something will happen.”

John turns off the TV and sits at the table with you. Your eyes hurt from staring at the computer screen for such a long time so you close it, finally done for the day. 

“Want me to swing by? I can hang out with you guys.”

His generosity makes you smile and kiss him. “That would be great, actually. You don’t have to stay though. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be too.” 

Because you know he’ll be sitting in his car all night watching. 

**

Sam is dressed up as a skeleton, which is just actually a black shirt with the bones printed on the front and back. With long sleeves too. But it’s a lot colder outside so you don’t think much of it. 

The night has gone pretty smoothly but it’s still early, the sun dipping down much faster now that winter is almost here. Sam is complaining that you didn’t dress up and you think he’s had too much candy. “I’m old, Sam. Old people don’t dress up for Halloween unless they’re trying to get laid.”

“Poor John.” Sam shakes his head sadly and you roll your eyes. 

You hear the bell jingle above the door and here he comes, like John knows you were talking about him. He’s wearing a dark three piece suit with his hair slicked back and you wonder if he really is going to kill someone tonight. Now you can clearly see the outline of guns around his hips, knowing that they’re there. He’s so fucking hot it makes you want to jump him. 

“Hey, Sam.” John nods in his direction and turns to you with a cup of coffee in his hand. “It’s decaf.” He says and you’re dying for a kiss but you know you can’t. 

“Thank you, hon-” You blush and take it from him. “Thanks.”

Sam is nervous and you’re surprised when he goes up to John. “Hi, John… Hey, um I’m sorry that I thought…” He motions to your eye and you realize this is the first time they’ve seen each other since Sam accused John of hitting you. “I was just trying to look out for her.”

“I know,” John’s expression turns soft. “And it’s okay. I appreciate you doing that.” He claps Sam on the back and even though it wasn’t too hard, Sam cringes and moves away.

You share a look with John and he quickly catches Sam’s arm before he can escape to the back of the store. He doesn’t say anything as John turns him around and pushes the collar of his shirt down. The both of you stare in horror at dark bruises becoming visible.

If John doesn’t kill anyone tonight, you certainly will. 

TBC

**bonus points if you know where the numbers of John’s keycode come from :) thanks for reading, feedback = love


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet John in an unconventional way.

All you can see is red. 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

“Nope.”

“We were just roughhousing.”

“No.”

“It happened at baseball practice.”

“Try again.”

“Fuck. Okay, but can we not do this at work?” Sam is pleading with you, but you’re not the one he has to worry about. You’ve never seen John this upset before, his eyes vacant and dark. 

You open your mouth but John speaks first, his voice deadly. “I think it’s time for Sam’s break.”

Both you and Sam share a glance and you can tell he’s terrified. You’re a little bit turned on. 

“We close in fifteen minutes anyway.” You say, breaking the tension. “Sam, why don’t you go wait with John in his car while I lock up, okay? Then we can figure out what to do.”

“Are you sure? I can help y--.” 

“She’s sure.” John pushes the door and motions for Sam to leave. “It’s open. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Sam grabs his backpack from under the counter and doesn’t look at you. His gaze is on the floor and you recognize it as shame. He’s embarrassed. 

John closes the door and watches as Sam crosses the parking lot and slides into the front passenger seat. “Do you need help closing up?”

“No, I can be done in a few minutes and then we can go. What’re you going to say to him?”

“Nothing.” John looks at you. “I’m just going to listen.”

“What if he doesn’t talk?” You ask, moving around the counter to close out the register. 

John smoothes down his tie and unbuttons his suit jacket. “That never seems to be a problem for me.”

“Right.” You imagine John gets people to tell him anything he wants… one way or another.  “Well, please don’t scare him anymore. He’s already intimidated by you.”

“Honey, please.” John tsks at you as he opens the door. “He’s just a kid.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be done soon.”

It takes about twenty minutes to count the cash and lock it in the safe, do a quick sweep around the aisles, and turn out all the lights. You’re not sure if you should hurry or give them time to talk. You’re still deciding when you put on your jacket and grab your purse, keys jingling from your hand and your stomach twisting with nerves for what Sam is going through. 

John is leaning by the trunk of the car when you walk up and you don’t even have to ask. 

“It’s his older brother. He’s been home from college this summer. Then he decided to take this semester off.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and your heart drops. “He told me that his brother picked on him. I didn’t do anything about it. I should of--”

“Baby, you didn’t know.” John pulls you close as you tremble from the cold and the disturbing news. “There was nothing you could do. He wouldn’t have told you, okay?”

Giving John a sullen look, you know he’s right. “What does he want to do now? Does his mom know?”

“No, he’s been hiding it from her for years.” John sighs heavily. “I guess she works as a nurse and isn’t home that often. He thought it was over when his brother went off to college but…”

“Not so much.” 

“Yeah. It’s been a long few months.”

You shake your head, disbelieving. “He always seems so happy. Just a typical teenager.”

“Well, I’m sure he was happy at work. He wasn’t at home.”

Memories of Max swarm every inch of your body and now you can definitely relate. “Shit.” You walk up to the open window and lean down. “Hey, buddy. You doing okay?”

Sam shrugs, still not meeting your eyes. 

“How about you come spend the night at my apartment? Until we figure something out, huh? Is your mom home? I can call her.”

“No! No, don’t do that. She’s working and I don’t want to bother her.” 

“I don’t think you’d be bothering her with something like this.” John walks up and rests his hip against the door. “We can go to my place too. Whatever you’re comfortable with. But you’re not going home.” He says the last part with a sternness you know can’t be argued with. 

Sam finally looks at you, but it’s for a decision you’re not going to make for him. “Seriously, whatever you want to do. John has a cute puppy but I can cook.”

John takes offense and says he can cook too. 

Sam seems so young, you just want to hug him. “I can go to my friend, Jake’s house. I don’t think David knows where his house is. I really don’t want to bother you guys.”

David is the brother, you remember Sam mentioning him only once or twice. “First, you’re not bothering us. Second, I don’t think we should chance it.” You look at John to see if he agrees, but he’s staring off into space. “How’d you get to work today?” You ask. “I don’t see your bike.”

“My mom dropped me off before her shift.”

“Okay, well.” You can see your breath in the cold air. “I’m freezing so how about you guys follow me to my apartment. It’s closer to your high school and I can drop you off in the morning.”

“I’ll drop you off in the morning.” John says firmly. “We can go to your house and get you some clean clothes before school. Maybe pack a bag for a few days.”

Sam looks at you with wide eyes. “Your boyfriend sure is scary for being an accountant.”

John blinks and looks at you, raising an eyebrow for an explanation as you both walk to your car. “Well I had to come up with a reason why you’re always wearing suits. It’s all I could think of.”

“It’s fine.” John opens your car door for you. “I’m going to run him to the taco place. I heard his stomach growling.” 

“Okay, I’ll get the couch set up. You’ll stay over too?”

“Yeah. Pooch is already over at Cassey’s. Didn’t want to leave him alone on Halloween.”

You kiss him softly. “Thank you for being so kind to my friend.”

“Anyone you care about, I care about.” John motions for you to get in the car. “Your lips are cold. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

About half an hour later Sam plops his backpack down on your living room floor. He seems exhausted and you wonder how long it’s been since he’s had a good night's sleep. If he’s always on guard at home. If he’s always looking over his shoulder for the next beating. It makes your heart ache for him. 

John places a bag of tacos in the middle of the coffee table, then disappears into your bedroom and returns with his suit jacket off. You realize he must have taken his guns off too and put them by the bed, where he usually keeps them if he stays over. 

You sit in the big chair and watch as Sam digs into the food, not wanting to ask a million questions but you still need to know what’s going on. John is waiting too, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets, looking sexy as ever. 

“He’s just bigger than me.” Sam starts, stuffing taco in his mouth. “I’m waiting for my growth spurt. Then I’ll kick his ass… maybe.”

“Is he drinking or what? On drugs?” You ask.

“No, nothing like that. He’s just mean. He thinks he’s being funny. When he sees the bruises he calls me a wuss and tells me that I need to man up.”

John steps forward and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Well, maybe he needs to pick on someone his own size.”

Sam scoffs and looks John up and down. “No offense, but he’s huge. He wants to be a wrestling coach, so he’s always ‘practicing’ with me even if I tell him to stop. He’s just a dick. Always has been.”

“And he wants to work at a school? That’s fitting.” You mumble sarcastically. 

John squeezes your neck lightly. “When we go to your house tomorrow morning I’m going to talk to him.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’ll do anything except get your ass whupped. And then mine.”

You peer up at John, wondering if he’s going to tell Sam what he actually does for work. 

John glances at you and shakes his head. “I think I can handle him just fine. And I don’t think you’ll ever get another bruise from him again.”

Oh God. He cannot kill Sam’s brother. “Are you okay out here, Sam? I put some fresh sheets and pillows on the couch. The bathroom is through there. I think we’re gonna go to bed.”

“Yeah.” He licks his fingers clean. “Thanks for letting me stay here. Thanks for the tacos, John.”

“Sure, we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You stand up and take John’s hand in yours, pulling him towards the bedroom. “Let me know if you need anything and help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

Sam nods, but he’s on his phone, not really paying attention to you anymore. When you close your bedroom door, a heavy sigh escapes you. “Wow, that was kinda crazy. I was not at all mentally prepared for any of that.”

“You did good.” John kisses your forehead and starts to unbutton his vest. “I don’t have any clothes here.”

“Maybe you should. I can clear out some closet space too.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, surprised that you’d offer such a thing. 

You lean over to whisper in his ear, “I’d even let you keep some guns in the nightstand.”

That really takes him aback and he doesn’t know what to say so you kiss him instead. “I guess you’ll have to sleep in your boxers tonight. And I’ll have to actually wear clothes since I have a guest.” John frowns at that and you kiss him again. “What’re you planning to do tomorrow with his brother?”

“I’m not sure yet. I just know he won’t hurt Sam anymore.”

Your stomach does a little flip at his assertiveness and you start pulling down the sheets to get into bed. “Maybe you should leave the guns and knives here, huh? Do you want me to go with you guys? Maybe I can talk some sense into him before you… do anything.”

“Hey…” John grabs at your waist and pulls you close. “Trust me?”

You give him a small smile. “Always.” It’s easy to get lost in his eyes as he looks at you with such affection. His arms around you create a safety net that you never want to leave. “And I also trust that you’re not going to kill his brother, right?”

He gives a slight nod but keeps eye contact, and you feel a chill down your skin. This man is deadly. It’s a thought you’ve always had, you’ve always known. But you kept it hidden and tucked down, never really letting it surface before. You take a step back and swallow hard. Suddenly he’s making you nervous. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m fine.” You lie, and he knows it. 

“You don’t look fine.”

You sit on the bed and grab the hair tie from your nightstand. “I am. It was just a lot tonight. It’s a lot to take in. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there. That scares me a little.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to depend on you all the time.” It comes out softly, a realization you thought was abandoned a while ago. Maybe not. “I want to be able to handle things like this on my own.”

John unbuttons the last of his vest before he silently sits beside you. 

“If you weren’t there…” You think about it out loud like you do at therapy, only the opposite way. “I probably would have never noticed. I’m totally oblivious to things like that. It would’ve gotten worse. And what if something really bad happened? Because I’m so wrapped up in myself. That’s not a good friend.” 

John’s hair is still slicked back and when you peek at his face he’s looking at the floor, blinking slowly. Finally he speaks. “I don’t agree with that at all. There’s a kid sleeping on your couch right now. He’s safe. If I were there or not, it eventually would’ve happened just like this.”

“And then what would I do?” You finally turn to face him. “Go beat up his brother? Obviously not.”

“I’d be a little scared of you.” John gives you a small smile. 

You rub at his beard. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He laughs and kisses your cheek. “Look, a few months ago Sam never would’ve been in your life, right? You having him here and supporting him is big enough right now, so just take that in for a minute. I’m proud of you.”

Maybe John is right. Maybe it is enough for now. 

“I wish you’d let me go with you tomorrow morning.” Sighing, you lean on his shoulder. “But I know you won’t.” 

“Next time.” 

You really hope there’s not a next time.

**

“And then John kicked his shins and body rolled across the floor!”

You stare in awe as Sam tries to explain everything that happened this morning. John had just text you that everything went fine but the way Sam is telling things, it’s the opposite of fine. 

“Body rolled? What’s a body roll?”   
  


“He like... jumped up on David’s chest and pulled all of his weight down and then like, did a somersault across the kitchen floor!” Sam is talking with his hands, punching and kicking around him. You stand back and watch him, slightly amused. There’s no way all of this happened. He’s definitely exaggerating. 

“Wow, that sounds intense. Is David okay?”

Sam smirks and shrugs. “Would you call two broken wrists okay?"

No, you would not. Sam certainly won’t have a bruise for a very long time. You don’t know what to think.

“And John threatened him too. Said if he ever laid a hand on me again that he’d come back.”

You put your hand on your hip. “And John let you watch all of this happen?”

“No way.” Sam grabs the broom from you and starts to sweep. “He told me to go upstairs and get changed but I stayed where I could see everything.”

“What’s your mom going to say?”

“Nothing. David will say he fell or something. He’d never admit to getting beat up by an accountant.”

“Well, I think you should tell her.” You don’t want to scold Sam, but it’s true. “She has a right to know what’s going on in her house. And does Preeda know anything?” Preeda is Sam’s girlfriend and you have no idea if she knew what was happening. 

“No.” Sam sheepishly smiles. “But now I can wear short sleeves around her and she’ll stop bothering me about it. And I’ll think about telling my mom, okay? Don’t you have that paper to write?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving.” You don’t want to. You don’t want to leave Sam alone but it’ll only be for thirty minutes before the night crew gets here. “You’ll be okay? Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me for a few days? Just until everything settles down?”

“It’ll be okay. My mom has a few days off. How about I text you if anything comes up?”

You take off your apron and put it in the back office, grabbing your purse and your backpack. “You promise?”

“Yeah. Totally. And tell John thank you again.”

For the first time you see Sam smile wide, a genuine smile. He looks relieved and happy. You always thought you’d know if something was wrong but you forgot how easy it was to hide problems too. 

On the way to the car you pull out your phone to check it. Nothing. You think about texting John that you’re coming over but you put your phone away instead. You’re too anxious. All you want is to see for yourself that he’s okay and you don’t want him to try and talk you out of not coming over. Sam didn’t mention anything about John getting hurt but that doesn’t really mean anything. John’s good at hiding things too and he would know Sam would feel bad if something happened to him.

It’s hard not to speed on the way to his house and once you finally get there your heart is racing. You’re picturing the worst in your head, images of broken bones and bruised knuckles flash through your mind.

It’s quiet and dark when you walk in and you wonder if John is even home. Pooch comes running downstairs to greet you, John following closely behind. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s just me.” You call out, setting your backpack down in the hallway. Lights flicker on and John appears before you wearing jeans and a white cotton pullover. You’re so glad to see him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Are you okay? I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You look at him up and down as you pet Pooch. He seems absolutely fine. Not even a scratch on him. 

“Yeah…” The adrenaline rushes out of your body. “I was worried you were hurt.”

John casually leans on the wall and gives you a look. Maybe you panicked for nothing. “I’m not hurt.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called. The way Sam was describing everything I didn’t know what to believe.”

John huffs and shakes his head. “I figured he was watching.”

“I think you’re his new superhero.” 

“Yeah? Do superheroes get a kiss?”

You eagerly nod and his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss, pressing your mouth against his again, this time longer and deeper until you hear a satisfied moan. You’re so relieved that he’s okay. 

When John pulls back, he runs his nose along your cheek and starts to nibble on your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you let him have his way with you for a minute. He’s pulling you closer, hands dipping under your shirt. 

“Baby, I have to go.” It comes out so weak you want to laugh at yourself. 

“Go? You just got here.”

“I know but I have homework. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“Honey, I think you’re underestimating my ability. That was the simplest job I’ve ever had.”

You scowl and John laughs, finally letting you go. He grabs your hand though and pulls you towards the kitchen. “Please stay? I’ll feed you and I’ll leave you alone while you work.”

“It’s gonna be a long night.” You tell him. “I have that paper due.”

He nods and goes to the fridge. “I know. I’ll stay awake until you’re done.”

It’s after midnight when you finish and John is sleeping soundly on the couch with Pooch at his feet. You want to take a picture but that might be weird. He’s so handsome and he looks peaceful like this. Nowhere near the killer you met a few months ago. You wake him with a kiss and slide your hand down his chest and up his shirt, scratching lightly over his skin.

“I guess superheroes get tired, huh?”

“Never.” John smiles and groans as he gets up. “How’d it go?”

“Not as hard as I thought.” You follow him around the house to help turn off all the lights and lock up. “I was nervous when I hit that submit button though.”

He holds your hand going up the stairs. “Good. It’ll only get easier.”

“I hope so. I’m exhausted. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“And you’ve had a few exciting days.” John says, turning the lamp on by the bed. “I’m glad you came over. Thank you for staying tonight.”

“Yeah?” You put your phone on the bedside table after you make sure the alarm is set for tomorrow. “Were you busy? What’d you do today? Besides kick ass.”

John looks down, focused and you can tell he’s fighting whether or not to tell you something. “Mostly I kept an eye on Sam.”

You wait patiently to see if he’ll continue because you know that’s not all he did today.

“And then I went to the airport.”

Leaning on the dresser, you wait some more. 

John starts to neatly fold some clothes he had on the bed. He must have been doing laundry when you burst in on him this evening. “I go there sometimes. To drive. In an empty hanger.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about so you go to the pile of clothes and start to help fold them. You know you should probably say something, but you’re wondering if this is another one of his secrets. “Okay…”

“It uh… helps me think. And keeps my driving skills up.”

You raise an eyebrow, careful not to show any judgement. “Did it make you feel better?” 

He tosses a pair of pants back on the bed to grab your waist. “No. You being here makes me feel better.”

“I’m happy I can do that for you but I’m also glad you have an outlet. Even if it sounds slightly dangerous.” You smile and brush the hair from his eyes, hesitating before you ask something that's been on your mind. “So, I was wondering…” 

“Yes?”

“If you wanted to take a shower with me?” It comes out fast and you look at the bed while you ask. When you finally look up you see him doing the same, looking down and biting his bottom lip, sighing heavily as he sits on the bed. This was not the reaction you were hoping for.

“Come here.” He slides over so you can sit down too. You’re trying not to shake with nerves and John seems to sense your anxiety, his warm hand gently squeezing your knee. “I don’t want you doing something you’re not ready for. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

You stare in silence because yes, maybe that’s something you would have done in the beginning of the relationship. It’s exactly why you kept pushing John away for so long. You wanted to be sure that you didn’t feel obligated to him for saving your life. And while you’re still thankful, now it’s turned into so much more. Now how do you tell him that?

“Would you have helped Sam if I wasn’t around?” You murmur.

“Yeah. Of course I would.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and move his hair away from his face. “Don’t you think I know that by now?”

“I’m not sure… do you?” He asks, his intense gaze making your stomach flip.

“Yes, I do. Want to know what else I think?” You don’t wait for an answer because he’s already challenged you. “I think if you were to pressure me or break up with me because I was moving too slow, you wouldn’t be the guy for me. I just want to take a shower with you. Be close to you. Nothing else.”

The guard John had up has gone down, you can see it as his eyes soften. “Naked close?”

“Yeah.” You give him a reassuring smile. “Naked close.”

“I guess I could be persuaded.” 

You give him a knowing look and get up, heading towards the bathroom. When you turn on the light it makes you squint from the brightness. “Um… do you still have any of those candles?”

John laughs as he leaves to find them. You run the water to let it heat up and decide to quickly get in without him watching you. There’s barely enough light from the bedroom to see but you manage and toss your clothes to the floor, hugging your arms to your chest and start to overthink everything as John comes back. It’s too late to worry now. You got yourself into this and even though you’re nervous, you know it’s a step in the right direction. Nothing about John makes you second guess yourself, it’s relationships from the past that carry the burden. 

He doesn’t say anything as he lights a few candles and you watch his silhouette through the shower door get undressed. The water is warm and you turn around to wet your hair as he steps in. His fingers are gentle on your skin, his hands moving across your back. You close your eyes as he kisses you, wanting to savor this moment. You want to savor John too, this man who chooses to walk beside you in this world. Who protects you not only from your enemies, but from yourself when the darkness is consuming.

His lips trail over droplets of water and you feel him smile at your temple. “You’re tired…” He whispers at your ear and all you can do is agree. You feel drunk on him and finally get your arms to move, circling around his neck. 

“I’m not too tired for this.” You stifle a yawn and John just smiles.

“You are the worst liar.”

Shrugging, you kiss his shoulder. “I know.”

John laughs and grabs your shampoo bottle from the shelf. It’s much more romantic this time when he washes your hair. It takes a while though, he keeps getting distracted by your lips and you can feel he’s excited when he moves against your stomach. 

You let him hold you close when you reach for the soap, the suds slicking all over your body. He rubs against you and the kisses turn urgent, frantic and passionate. Your fingers tighten in his wet hair, trying to get as close to him as possible. His mouth suddenly stills and his body becomes rigid as you feel a warmth at your hip. He’s shuddering a second later and you kiss down his neck in his aftermath. 

“What do you need?” John asks once he finally catches his breath, fingers tracing over your spine. 

While you love being in his arms, you push him back and give yourself permission to look at his body. You try to capture the image in your head because this man is beautiful, inside and out, and the sight makes your knees weak. There are too many scars etched into chest to count, and you guide him to turn around so you can look at the ones on his back. The tattoos are dark against his skin, and you wonder where he got each one. Briefly your gaze falls lower and lower until you reach around him to turn off the water. 

“I think I got my fill for a while.” John raises an eyebrow and you wink playfully as you get out of the shower. “What?”

“Are you sure that’s all you need?”

You kiss him as you hand him a towel. “I’m very satisfied. I think you forget how handsome you are.”

John blows out the candles and leads you into the bedroom. “And why is it you get to say nice things to me and I can’t do the same for you?”   
  


You pause and blink. “Touche.”

John’s grin is smug as he lays down, not bothering to put any clothes on. “So now I can tell you how pretty--”

You quickly put your finger to his mouth. “So I guess I’m not ready for that.” 

He takes your wrist away and holds your hand. “You really can’t take a compliment?”

“Not when I don’t think it’s true.” 

John doesn’t say anything and holds your hand tighter. The truth is that you see the way he looks at you, you see his eyes fill with adoration but you can’t hear the words yet. “I guess I need to talk to Beth about this, huh?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” John agrees and settles onto the pillow. “If it helps, I can go with you sometime.”

“To therapy? With me?” You can’t believe he’d waste his time like that. “I think you have more important things to do.”

“I don’t. You are what is important to me. Everything else can wait.”

You’re not sure what to say without digging yourself a deeper hole, so you kiss him goodnight. If only his words didn’t seem like a lie, maybe you could believe him. 

**

The next day you stop at the hospital after work. Just the smell reminds you of grandma and you think about her as you take the elevator up to the chapel. You light a candle and sit quietly, letting yourself think. It’s not often that you do this, but when you come here it’s comforting. Taking care of grandma was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do and breaking away from her beliefs will be the next. 

Seeking her approval when you would never be good enough was exhausting. You’re afraid being with John might turn out the same. He’s never put that pressure on you though, you do it to yourself because it’s how you’ve lived for so long. He’s never lied to you but what he says just can’t be true, can it? You imagine him telling you that he loves you and the thought makes you squirm in your seat. It just isn’t possible. 

But maybe… maybe if you keep working on yourself, find your worth and keep your faith. Maybe one day it will be. Maybe one day you’ll let John speak and hear what he says as his truth. You’ll learn the things he says are not him just being nice or a facade, John would never do that. He has no reason and you need to remember that. But it’s so hard. You’re starting to love him unconditionally because he’s perfect in your eyes. There has to be something wrong with him. He does snore sometimes but it’s really cute. His body is warm when he cuddles up to you but you find it sweet. Maybe he sees all of your faults in the same way. Maybe he’s a better man than you give him credit for.

Quietly you get up and walk to the window. You see the bar where you met Max and where you’d go almost every night to drown out your pain. It seems like such a long time ago. You wonder what could have been and let yourself grieve the past, another layer shed but now filled with hope.

TBC

A/N: Continue? Yes? No?

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